Zoe Walker Spills the Brain Bleach
by Zoe Walker
Summary: Some actions cannot be reversed, no matter how much certain individuals (cough*Aizen*cough) might wish otherwise. There's no un-exploding that whale carcass. Chapters 1-6 edited by Infamous Storm. Chapters 7 and up edited by Jhin of the Opera
1. Kurosaki Ichigo

Kurosaki Ichigo did battle with a monster.

This wasn't exactly unusual. Kurosaki Ichigo fights monsters. It's practically his reason to exist. Whether because he enjoys it, because he has no choice, or most often to protect his friends and family, Ichigo fights monsters. It's one of those constants, across all the worlds and timelines an Ichigo exists. And he generally gets pretty good at it too.

But this Ichigo was, shall we say, less skilled than he will eventually become. In fact, I'm almost certain he'd never fought a monster before. Or anything else outside of karate practice and the occasional street fight.

All things considered, he wasn't doing too badly. Certainly better than I did the first time I picked up a sword. That karate served him well enough; he's got the reflexes, and the strength, and the fighting instincts that could carry him to levels of power that would let him annihilate his opponent with ease. Assuming he survived today.

The world of the spirit is very metaphorical; comes with the metaphysics. And right now, Ichigo has immense power and no control over it. A trait reflected in his huge, heavy, dull, unwieldy sword. It's slowing him down, and tiring him out. Even worse luck, he's probably never handled an edged weapon before. Definitely a kendo shinai, but never a real blade. He doesn't know how to swing a sword to cut deeply, how to move even the slab of metal he's swinging with speed and accuracy. His edge alignment is nonexistent. And those samurai movies he's drawing his moves from certainly never showed him how to thrust.

It's going to cost him. His life, for sure. Probably the invisible heat signature bleeding out to his right. Definitely his family, passed out behind him while he fights for them all.

He's wounded, tiring, and he isn't doing much damage to the creature he's fighting. Little cuts might wear down a human eventually, but most supernatural beings are made of tougher stuff.

He swings, dodges, ripostes, takes a hit, and barely stays standing. He's got grit, but the creature is outlasting him. Eh, Ichigo always specialized in last minute turn-arounds.

Aaand he's down. And up. And down. And sort of up… nope, down again. Well, sucks to be him.

… Some days, having a conscience blows slag. So much. I hate fighting invisible things. Especially invisible things with variable body plans. And yet, here I go.

Can't just shoot the thing, either. This universe has slagging annoying rules for its supernatural bits. Most physical attacks are completely useless, and my bullets are no exception. Not that I'd expect them to kill the thing, but chip damage is still damage.

Melee combat with an invisible monster. The one that's playing paddle-ball with Ichigo's soul in the rubble of his house. Joy.

Yet here I go, sword in hand aaand stop! The world pauses, and I jogged into position, and fiddled a bit with my infrared visor. Wonder of wonders, it actually helped. That looks head-like! I stuck the point of my sword where it looked like the head was going, braced myself, and released the spell. The monster promptly impaled its face, and the sheer force behind it nearly threw me into the nearest wall. _After_ I braced! Definitely not going invisible monster hunting without my power armor again. Thank the gods it fell for that. Charging a bit of mana into my foot, I kicked the thing off my blade, wiped it on Ichigo's front, and sheathed it. I hear they call it 'reishi' or something here, but I ain't gonna. Mana is mana, magic is magic. Stylistic differences rarely matter.

The creature evaporated. Or it just isn't producing heat anymore now that it's dead. Hopefully the former; I'm sure not cleaning it up if it starts to smell.

Presenting a winning smile, and praying to any god who'll listen that I'm not covered in blood I can't perceive, I turned back to the two human-shaped heat signatures sprawled out behind me, probably in varying states of severe injury. "Well, that was exciting, wasn't it?"

They probably said something back, not that I could hear it. Different magical traditions, different abilities, and I usually don't deal with ghosts. Also, I'm probably not strong enough to hear them anyway, any more than I could touch them. Otherwise, I wouldn't be working through a heat scanner and an eye for environmental cues. My sword is… special.

"Look, y'all, I can't hear dead people. This isn't gonna work." Both the heat sigs twitched; looks like I timed it perfectly. Or something.

But one of the heat sigs staggered upright, wobbled over to Ichigo's body, and after quibbling a bit with its buddy, fell in. Ichigo immediately jerked awake as wide, weeping gashes opened all over him and he made this sorta macho grunting noise idiots make when they're trying to ignore how injured they are.

"Oh no you don't," I ordered him when he tried to get up, striding over with a roll of gauze from my field first aid kit in hand, "You bleed out after I went to all this trouble, we're gonna have words. Hold still, and let me get something covering those wounds." Naturally, the stubborn idiot doesn't listen.

"Who the fuck are you, lady?" He gritted out, although he did let me start treating his gaping wounds.

"What?" I asked with false innocence. The only kind I've got. "Seems a little too convenient?"

"No shit."

"Good. Keep that suspicion going and you might not die. Much."

Ichigo pauses, looking over my shoulder. He's probably listening to the other humanoid ghost. Then he lets me in on the conversation. "Hey, you didn't answer my question!"

"Nope. I didn't," I grinned at him, and he flinched. Guess that still needs work. "Name's Zoe Walker. Er, Walker Zoe, I guess. But don't use my last name. I probably won't remember to respond." It's rude, but he already has to know I'm foreign. I'm reliably informed my accent in Japanese is pretty jarring, although my Chinese is a lot better.

"Are you a Soul Reaper?"

"I wish. Soul Reapers are crazy overpowered. I mean, the at will intangibility alone…"

"Then what are you? Rukia said only Soul Reapers can fight hollows."

"Sooo, Rukia is the not-attacking-us ghost over there? And I just stabbed a hollow."

"You didn't know?!"

"Kid," I drawled, "I'm working off of vague impulses of altruism and a dodgy night vision visor here. All I know about what I killed is that it was kicking your butt in the middle of a destroyed house. And I guessed you were the good guy." Not exactly. More like I picked up some vintage _Shonen Jump_ a few worlds over, and the first few books of _Bleach_ were included. Although with the way this was diverging before I even got here that won't be nearly as useful as it could be.

Not that anything he fights would be a challenge to me. Berry-Head Lite and Captain Ice Princess were the strongest foes Ichigo fought, and clearly end-boss material. Even if berry-lite was dumber than a sack of rocks, and the expressionless wonder'll probably lose all his skills the second he gets mad.

"Then…"

"All I can see of ghosts is their body heat and what they do to solid objects."

"Then how could you kill that thing?! It didn't even notice when I hit it with a baseball bat."

"I have an incredibly magical, incredibly sparkly sword," I informed him, unclipping the sheathed sword and waving it in front of his face. He failed to be impressed. Philistine. "I forged this beauty from the strongest metals in the world, plus lunar silver and cold iron, in dragon fire, and quenched it in holy water from six different religions, garlic oil, and my own blood. It kills _everything_. Well, everything I can cut. It's not actually any sharper than a normal sword." Ichigo gave me this calculating look, like he was trying to decide how much I was scrapping him. Good luck kid. You're a couple thousand years too young to be reading me.

"Magic? You can't be serious."

"You just got pulled out of your body to fight an evil ghost that wrecked your house. Magic, berry-man."

"Berry- I'm Ichigo, damn it!"

"Be nice if you'd said that sooner."

"Y- Oh. Uh, sorry."

"Don't worry about it, kid. Hey, your friend over there need any help? She's leaking hot bits I'm assuming is something she needs." Ichigo paused for a second, listening to the ghost.

"No. She apparently can heal herself. With magic. Yes, Rukia, it's magic. Your hands are glowing green and making your wounds close."

"You stay here and try not to bleed out," I told him, "Maybe Rukia can sparkle on you or something and speed up your recovery. I'm going to see if I can dig your family out of your house."

"Shit! Yuzu a-" Trying to sit up cut him off with what I assume was excruciating pain.

"Seriously, you're really hurt. Stay here, and put some pressure on that gut wound," I started stomping toward the house, scanning for heat in case someone got buried. "You're no good to your family if you die."

Fortunately, the little blonde girl, the slightly larger brunette, and their father and his disgusting goatee were mostly uninjured and didn't end up under the rubble. Probably gonna PTSD like nobody's business, but physically they were fine.

As I carried the first of them back over, I saw Ichigo's wounds closing rapidly as he argued with thin air. "Hunt down more of those things? Are you crazy? I almost died against that one! Yes I have a choice. You take your powers back, and I stay with my family. What do you mean you can't take them back?!"

"Delivery," I informed them, laying the blonde down alongside her brother. I assume, anyway. "I'll just leave you two to hash slag out. All three of them are fine, though. Unless I should've found more than three."

"No, that's everyone," Ichigo confirmed. Good. I made two more trips for the rest of the Kurosaki family. The older girl, whatsherface, Karen? She was easy. Goat face was harder. Not heavy, but a lot taller than I am, which made things awkward. When I got back, sure enough, Ichigo and Rukia were still squabbling like an old married couple. Oh, the UST is so real.

"It's not my job, you damn samurai midget! Maybe if you were good at it we wouldn't be in this situation! I don't gotta do nothing for you. I saved your life. You owe me!"

"I'm guessing your spiffy new samurai ghost powers come with some responsibilities?" I cut in, dropping the goat man a little harder than necessary. Dude was a total pain to haul out of that hole in the wall. "I'm not gonna say you should or shouldn't respect them, but think about this. I'm not a very good magic sensor. Or whatever your ghost friend wants to call what you've got. My sensitivity is terrible, and my range is nonexistent. I mostly find out about peoples' powers when they use them on me. And I can feel you from across the room. If I had to guess, the nasty, supernatural predators are gonna be able to smell you from a lot farther away."

"Then- What?!"

"Kid, you're talking to empty air from where I'm standing. What's got your pants in a twist?"

"Rukia says my aura will attract hollows. Lots of them, like the one you killed. And my sisters have spent so much time around me that they'll smell just as… tasty."

"Then do you really have a choice?"

"I don't. But…"

"You lost today, so what happens next time?" I guessed. He flinched, so I was spot on. Or close enough. "Rukia can probably help you out. She'd better, since you're doing _her_ job. But if you really want to get ahead, I'll be staying on 35th street for the next few days. Come there. I'll know." I turned around and started walking off. "Police and firefighters are on their way, so I'm just gonna leave now. I get held up answering questions, the food I bought's gonna spoil." I didn't buy food, but wasting food/money's always a good excuse to leave. Better than 'I was hunting down a yacht thief for some rich guy and happened to be in the area.' People are more sympathetic to grocery runs than extralegal bounty hunting.


	2. The Plot Deepens

The day after my encounter with Ichigo, I entertained a rather unexpected guest. Not the kid, although I wasn't expecting him. Not yet, anyway. I figured he'd need to get his butt kicked at least once more before he'd ask anyone for help.

No, I was visited by a cat. A little black cat, who somehow got past the locks, chain, traps, and perhaps most impressively the doorknob on my temporary base of operations. Without waking me up, and I'm a pretty light sleeper.

I didn't even notice it until it jumped onto my bed, and I woke up swinging. I hit air. The cat flipped me onto the floor, faster than I could see it move. If I'd been more awake, I probably could have seen it coming, but I'm not sure I could've done anything about it. Bad sign, that.

"Hello, Ms. Walker," the cat addressed me in a surprisingly deep voice, "You're… not exactly what I was expecting." Well slag you too, kitty. You don't seriously expect me to have my game face on at 'oh gods no' o'clock in the morning in a locked, booby-trapped room that nobody should know I'm staying in!

"And I didn't expect to be judo flipped at whatever time this is by a cat," I groused at her, begrudgingly pulling myself to a seat. The floor felt far too comfortable for my own good this early. My back wouldn't forgive me for weeks. "So that makes us even. What do you even want that couldn't wait a few hours?" Something as sneaky as whatever this 'cat' actually is would've killed me already if that was the plan, so I wasn't too worried. Seriously, how did it _do_ that?

"I recently heard you've been involving yourself with the family of an old friend," The cat stated, "Saved their lives from a hollow, in fact. And I'd never heard of you before; that _doesn't_ happen. Or it hasn't before, at any rate." Of course. The world revolves around Kurosaki Ichigo. No, seriously, I'm pretty sure this one does.

"Probably 'cause I'm a human," I rubbed at my eyes, trying to stave off a yawn. "And not from around here." And if it interprets 'here' as 'Japan', so much the better. Ugh. I'm starting to wonder if I should've just let the kid get eviscerated. I signed up for cryptic mentor, not this sneaky scrap!

"Clearly. But you're really not a Soul Reaper?"

"Nope. Just a human with a magic sword." The cat gave me a critical look, but accepted the information. Probably a better sensor than I am.

"Magic doesn't exist." Accepted some of it, anyway.

"Says the talking cat with ninja skills." The cat appeared completely blindsided by this response, but rallied quickly.

"Okay. I guess I'm not convincing you of that." Duh. "So… what exactly did you see last night? I heard the story from Rukia, but she spent most of it ranting about cryptic half-truths, rogue Soul Reapers, and a suicidal gaijin with fire powers."

…Fire powers? I've got a few good fire spells, but I didn't use any offensive magic against the hollow. Just a six second time stop, my absolute limit, which should've looked like the super speed I know Soul Reapers can use, and a sword thrust. Oh, maybe it was that!

"I can't even clearly see these hollows, and I couldn't see Kurosaki or Rukia at all with the naked eye. But they all still gave off heat, and I saw that with my night vision visor." The cat froze for a few seconds.

"Night vision? It sees _heat_? Are these… common mortal technology?" It asked with clearly artificial calm.

"Kinda? They're pretty expensive, but anybody can pick up an infrared camera at a specialist shop," Mine's more advanced than the version on the open market, but the difference isn't that great, "The future is now, kitty, thanks to SCIENCE!"

"It's Yoruichi," The cat muttered, barely paying attention to me as it chewed over the unexpected shock of decades-old technology. Aww, is your little secret a lucky camcorder from getting blown wide open on YouTube? My heart bleeds for ya'. "I need to tell- need to go. Now. But we- I'll be watching you." The cat vanished instantly. Holy Moley. That's fast. Really, really fast. I knew Soul Reapers moved faster than the untrained eye can see in the manga, but I figured my very trained eyes would do better at following them.

At least I got the super-ninja-kitty off balance with the power of SCIENCE and my sunny, early morning disposition. Maybe tonight I should just rig cymbals to the doors and windows. Not as subtle as what I've got, but it'll probably keep me from getting jumped in my sleep again.

With a groan, I flopped back into my piece-of-scrap bed and groped around for my left arm. The connection is pretty complex, but I'd put it on often enough to get it right the first time even in the dark.

Ow.

Always sucks to reconnect the nerves, and it really isn't comfortable to sleep with a slab of metal stuck to my stump, but I'd rather not get caught one-handed again. Comfort and convenience could wait for when I felt a bit less paranoid.

* * *

"So, Ms. Yoruichi, what did you think of our new player? As impressive as Ms. Kuchiki made her sound?"

"Zoe Walker? A new player? That would be generous, Kisuke. She's human. Mostly."

"How do you 'mostly' human? Is she a mod soul? A Quincy?"

"That would explain a lot, but I don't think so. She does have some power, but it's nowhere near most Soul Reapers'. Her spiritual pressure is closer to a shaman, or a really wimpy fullbringer. Although once she dies she'll be a huge asset for whichever of the Court Guard companies snaps her up. More like pieced together with scars and mortal technology. She had a prosthetic arm, and her eyes weren't focusing on me very well. Some kind of visual correction that doesn't involve glasses, or maybe just that attached to her morning tea. They've improved alarmingly well since we left Soul Society, Kisuke. Did you know they have cameras that can see us, no matter the user's spiritual power?"

"Really? How clearly?"

"I didn't ask. Damn it; I'm going to have to go back. Those booby traps were dangerous enough the first time. She wired a defibrillator to her windowsills and doorframe. I avoided it, of course, but she's got a vicious, inventive mind. Good thing I also forgot to wipe her memories, then."

"Nah, I wouldn't bother."

"Kisuke?"

"I wouldn't worry about the thermal cameras. That's the only human technology I can think of that might do what you're describing. They barely give a clear enough image to convince the real conspiracy nuts. Even if she's working with better tech than the standard, it couldn't reveal us. Maybe in a hundred years it'll be a problem, but for the moment we've got more pressing concerns.

"And as for her memories? I say leave 'em. She's just one human; it's not like she's a threat to anyone important. Besides, Ichigo didn't perform as well as I'd hoped; he and Rukia would've died if Ms. Walker hadn't stepped in. A little extra help from someone with skill and brains before he moves on to bigger and better things could be the edge he needs to survive."

"True enough. Isshin's good, and so are we, but we can't assume we'll be able to hide from the Soul Society forever. Especially now that Rukia's gone AWOL. So, what is the plan now? If we can't count on hiding anymore, things are going to have to change."

"Mmm. As of right now, I think we're playing for time. The longer we head off a disaster or an investigation, the stronger Ichigo will become, and in the worst case scenario he's our only chance to get Aizen fighting a captain-class opponent who hasn't seen his shikai yet. With that gaijin wild card in the mix, we can focus on counter-intelligence."

"Anything she, Rukia, and Ichigo can't handle will definitely make a big enough mess to clue us in even if we scale back his direct protection. Still, maybe I should challenge her to a sparring match. We don't know much about her, and she seems like an inventive sort. Could be fun, and it'd help get the blood pumping after all these years of hiding."

"Be careful not to reveal too much, Yoruichi. As pragmatic as this woman seems to be, she'll run if she realizes how outclassed she is."

"Feh! You worry too much, Kisuke. She's just a human with some fancy tricks. How tough could she be?"


	3. Teach Me, Sensei!

After my encounter with Streaky the Super Cat, I came very close to bugging out while the going was good. So very close.

Gods, I hated my conscience. I'd just ignore her and leave anyway, but the void-sucker's got a majority coalition scraped together. Some days democracy blows.

Or I'm just not as much of a jerk as I like to think. Considering I'm more or less a professional jerk, that's not encouraging.

Regardless, by the time Ichigo turned up on my doorstep covered in half-healed wounds and angsty as all get out, I already had a lesson plan and an appropriately sized, weighted training blade.

For maximum mind screw, I pulled the door open just as he was about to knock. "Well, well. Wouldja look at that, it's Scowly Berry! With extra scowly," I affected a deep frown to mirror his, "And extra berry. That's more red than you had the last time we met. Something sure scrapped you pretty good."

Ichigo's eyebrows had a brief seizure, but he kept his knee-jerk reaction in check. Maybe he was serious. "You said you would teach me."

"I did say that. Are you asking?" Apparently this was a much harder question than I'd thought, but eventually he answered.

"Please make me your student, sensei," Wow, that did not sound easy for him. Sounded kind of constipated, but he got it out. Wonder what happened to him.

"Teach you… what?" I may be enjoying this a bit too much.

"Teach me how to fight. How you beat that hollow without getting hurt," He clarified reluctantly, "And… whatever else you think I need to know."

"Wow. This was not the impression I got last week. You barely accepted a few tips from Rukia. What happened?" I ushered him inside my safe house as I talked. No sense in making more enemies by putting details of The Masquerade out on the street. Also, I was genuinely curious which fight got him to break down.

"I fought the Grand Fisher," Ah. I shoulda known. This wasn't good for my all-knowing, cryptic sage shtick. "He got away. He's not getting away next time. No hollow's getting away ever again."

"Revenge, huh? Not gonna ask who for. None of my business," Also, I already know because I read that chapter, "But as your teacher I'm obliged to inform you that pretty much everybody I've met who goes looking for revenge dies with their target."

"That's not good enough," Ichigo replied coldly, "I can't let what happened to me happen to somebody else." Empathy. Color me pleasantly surprised. "I can't protect everyone. I'm not Superman or something. But I want to protect as many people as I can, and that means not dying. And if I have to swallow my pride to do that…"

"Well, I haven't taken a student in a long slagging time, and I haven't taught someone to fight in a lot longer than that," I hedged, "But, if you're really ready to live up to your name, I'll do what I can to help, Ichigo."

"Wait, _that's_ why you were-"

"What kind of protector wimps out because he doesn't want to get involved? Where I come from, names mean something, kid. If you don't earn it, I'm not gonna use it. And you have earned it. Provisionally. I reserve the right to mock you more if you backslide."

"…Then why still call me kid?"

"Because you're like fifteen, and I could kick your butt if I wanted. If you want me to stop, get older or get good. Ideally both."

"Er… ok. So, uh, what do you want me to do, sensei?"

"Well, since you're fifteen, patience is probably a bit much to ask for, which means we'll start with swordplay. No point in branching out until I'm sure you'll live long enough to learn more." I lead him into the back of my safe house, a large, open area covered in shipping crates, and passed him the training sword I'd prepared earlier. He took it easily enough, but then dropped it practically to the floor before he adjusted to the unexpected weight.

"What the- what's up with this practice sword? My zanpakuto isn't this heavy," He complained, "Shouldn't my practice weapon be like my real one?"

"In shape, yes. Glad to know you don't have any complaints on that front. In weight, no," I told him, "The heavier your training weapon is, the easier it'll be to use the real thing in a fight. And since your real sword's a giant slab of metal on a stick, I added lead inserts to this one for some extra heft. You can thank me later. For now, get en garde!"

He stared at me blankly. "Is that German?"

"French. It's the position you take when you're ready to fight, for future reference. Show it to me."

He did, and I immediately started making corrections. Slagging amateurs. He really was working off Karate and samurai movies. Bad samurai movies. "Okay, first off, stand up straight. You're too easy to tip over that way. Bring your feet closer together too, under your shoulders, and stand up taller. Knees bent is good, but you're a gangly weed with a really long sword. You want to use and abuse that reach."

"Like this?" Ichigo shuffled his feet around to something that might not get him killed immediately, "What about my arms?"

"That's actually a lot less important," Counterintuitive yet true. "But since you're asking, with a sword you want to keep the blade between you and your most threatening opponent whenever possible. It doesn't take a lot of force to cut or stab somebody, and if you need more power I'll teach you some moves later. Try to keep your right side- You're right handed?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, then keep your sword to the right, like so," I moved his hands over a few inches, and down a bit to demonstrate. "This way, if somebody attacks your right side, they'll hit your sword without you even doing anything. Instant defense."

"Okay. So I'm standing. But don't I need to move?"

"Consider yourself lucky that I'm giving you the survival boot camp version," I told him, "If we were doing this right, I wouldn't even let you touch the practice sword without a couple months of footwork drills. Sadly, hollows won't wait that long, so we're taking the fast route. Your groin is not gonna thank me, but it'll keep you alive."

"My… What are you gonna have me do?"

"Use muscles you usually don't?" I raised a scarred eyebrow, "Kendo and HEMA stances are a real pain for the untrained, especially after you hold 'em for a while."

"Er, sorry?"

"Eh, whatever. Movement. Exactly how you move doesn't matter so much, as long as you come back to your resting stance. Also, if you aren't planning to cover a load of ground in a hurry, don't cross your legs. It's easy to lose your balance that way…"

* * *

Teaching Ichigo how to not die turned out to be a very interesting experience. The kid was an incredibly fast kinesthetic learner. He picked up stances and forms after just a few repetitions, and cemented moves as reflexes in weeks. Combine that with a fast reaction time, decent stamina, and a surprising amount of strength for his size and you've got a nasty swordsman in the making. Pounding strategy into his thick skull, on the other hand, was less rewarding.

I started off on simple scenarios, with some Socratic method thrown in to really get the brain juices flowing. I quickly downgraded to Go. Then to Stratego. Then to chess. Then to checkers. _Then_ to blackjack.

Once he had to walk home after losing his pants a couple of times, it finally occurred to him that charging ahead blindly was making him lose way too much money. He learned risk assessment! Yay! Only took two months. From there it was just a matter of slowly, painfully dragging him up the complexity hill. Ugh. How can someone be so smart and yet so dumb?

I'm not sure how much it'll stick once he gets into combat, but at least he's thinking more. And while he showed no particular talent for it, he was able to do the basic focusing exercises I started him on. I've got no idea how soul reaper spells work, but I started magic with this, so in theory it ought to help. He did mention that his zanpakuto has shrunk noticeably since he started, which according to Rukia is a sign of greater control over his power. We must be doing something right. First time I've ever heard of a guy happy that his sword is getting smaller. He must have had a few fights indoors.

She still doesn't want to teach him the spells she knows. Something about giant explosions if his control isn't good enough. Ichigo wasn't too happy about that, but she is the expert. Things were going pretty well, until the cat came back.

'CRASH!' By the time my brain caught up with my reflexes, I'd already put four bullets into the wall, tracking a lithe, dark shape. Knew those cymbals were a good idea. I'd be feeling pretty good about myself, but…

"Gods, Yoruichi," I groaned, flicking the safety on my pistol and flopping back onto my bed with a pained groan, "Do you have to come calling this early? Really? And you know I have a front door, right? With a doorbell and everything."

"Aren't those illegal in Japan?" The super-cat deflected, eyes locked onto my gun. Kitty senses plus gunfire in a room this small was probably all kinds of not fun.

"Yeah, and the talking cat is gonna walk into a police station and report me," I snarked back, "I'm armed. You're faster than a speeding bullet. Get over it. What do you want this time?"

"Oh, nothing much," Yoruichi replied, in what was probably meant to sound light and taunting. It didn't work out that well for her, 'cause she said it about six times too loud to get the right tone. Definitely some tinnitus there. "Just hoping to get a better idea of what skills my nephew is learning. Perhaps a spar?"

"Not only no, but slag no. In a straight fight you'd kick my butt in seconds," I stated. Exaggerating a bit, but I've got no doubt she'd win eventually, "You're a cat with super speed, or possibly teleportation, and a faster reaction time than supersonic bullets. Small targets are trouble enough without that. If I wanted a no win situation I'd dust off my NES." Says a lot that I can see a few seconds into the future, and I still can't beat some of those old games.

"Well, if that's your problem…" Yoruichi blurred for a few seconds, and then a rather amazonian woman stood in her place. Dark hair and skin, simply cut clothes made of high-quality fabric, and the same yellow eyes as the slagging cat. Also enormous boobs on the kind of figure I have actually killed people failing to achieve. I think I hate her even more now. "I can fix that."

"And exactly how does _being a shapeshifter_ make you a _softer_ target?"

"It doesn't," The former cat confirmed, "But you were complaining that I was too small to fight. Now I'm not." Scrap. I hate it when other people use logic on me.

"Fine. Just let me grab my armor and invite Ichigo over to watch," I conceded gracelessly, "Maybe he'll learn something."

"Armor?" Yoruichi raised an eyebrow, "For a simple spar?"

"You can move fast enough to dodge bullets. Therefore, you're strong and tough enough to survive moving that fast," I reasoned, "Which means I want some metal between my squishy, human body and whatever you're fighting with. Dying because you forgot to pull a punch is not how I'm getting myself killed." Depending on how strong she is, it might happen anyway, but I'll feel better about my chances this way.

"I would never!" Yoruichi huffed, "Don't you trust my skills?"

"No. You're a shapeshifter. And a cat. And prettier than I am, although that doesn't mean as much as usual because of the first one. I don't trust you at all. I just can't think of another way to get rid of you."

"Wow. The claws are out today."

"Scrap you, lady. I can be diplomatic when I want to. It's three in the morning. My motivation is asleep. The lucky jerk."

"…What is with the kindergarten cussing, anyway? It makes you sound like a schoolteacher or something."

"Somebody's paying me six US dollars a day to keep it PG."

"I… actually can't tell if you're lying or not. That almost never happens."

"I'm just magical like that," I cackled, "Now scram. I'm not fighting anything until I get dressed, and I'm sure not stripping with you in the room."


	4. The Goddess of Flashing

"Wow. I have to say, I was not expecting that."

"Expecting what?" I fished.

"The armor," Yoruichi clarified, "It's… not what I was expecting."

"I told you I was wearing it, and that it was plate armor," I pointed out, "What's left to be surprised by?"

"Er, well…"

"Yeeeesssss?"

"I guess I was expecting European-style plate," Yoruichi admitted sheepishly, "Which in hindsight was a little racist of me."

"The Japanese kabuto gives better visibility," I explained, rapping an armored knuckle on the side of the helmet. "This stuff has elements of both kinds. It's functional, not historical. It's made with what works. Where it came from doesn't matter, unless you're interested in ordering yourself a set."

"It looks effective enough, but I'd never wear something that heavy," Agility-based fighter, huh? Wonder if I can bait any more intelligence out of her. "So, we doing this or not?" I closed my eyes and took a moment to center myself.

"Whenever you're ready, crazy cat lady," With how fast she is, attacking first is not going to work very well. I'd have to hope I could stick my counter.

She said something in response, but I wasn't listening. What's happening right now isn't nearly as important as what's going to happen in a few seconds against somebody this fast. Hmm.

I was armored, and she wasn't. Maybe I could get a counterattack as she comes in? Ooooh, that's not going to go well.

How about a lock? If I grab her foot when she kicks… No, that's a bad idea.

What if- Oh, ow. Well, I went into this assuming that I'd take some hits.

Yoruichi charged in, far faster than I could have reacted if I started when I saw her move. Since I'm casually violating causality, I ducked just far enough for her shin to ring off the thickest part of my helmet instead of the neck joint. She blocked my return jab to the solar plexus, escaped the follow-up uppercut by leaping back, and came back toward my left side.

I caught her kick on my forearm, but she disengaged before I could move into a joint lock, and slammed a couple of hard blows into my back. Didn't do any damage through my armor, but the force staggered me forward. I spun with the force of the last hit, a lot faster than she was apparently expecting, because my fist connected solidly with her face.

I landed another jab and an elbow strike before she disengaged, looking rather annoyed with herself. Probably never fought someone wearing decent armor before, if she thought attacking my back bare-handed was going to do much. The flat of the back is one of the best-covered places by a breastplate.

Unfortunately, the disappointment only made her hit harder. No permanent damage, since my armor's designed to tank high-caliber bullets, but I'd be feeling that in the morning. Even the best padding only stops so much force. I tried to counterattack, and only realized she was letting it land after I'd already committed.

I punched, she went for a grapple, and started overpowering me despite her twiggy little arms and lack of noticeable muscle tone. I hate people who have enough supernatural mojo to get away with moves like that without working for it. So. Very. Much.

Well, I had a choice. I could just let Yoruichi pin me. I was probably gonna lose sooner or later. Or I could escalate, shake her up, and see what falls out.

Oh, who am I kidding? I can't walk away letting her think I'm _this_ wimpy. On the other hand, might as well let her think my best stuff's voice controlled. "Power assist activate!" And suddenly I was the one dominating this fight.

A band of nearly-invisible light covered my eyes, two small rectangles on a long menu glowing brightly. 'AR system online.' 'Hydraulic assistance online.'

"I been taking a lotta hits the past few seconds. It's your turn," That said, even with my power armor Yoruichi is definitely stronger than me. But right now that doesn't matter. I probably outweigh her without my armor; with it I've got at least a hundred pounds of advantage. All the strength in the world won't help you if you don't have the leverage and traction to use it.

Her muscles matched my enhanced ones without breaking a sweat. Her wimpy flats lost their grip almost instantly, and my greaves' thick, chunky tread kept me stable. I got one hand around her right calf, and another over her shoulder, lifted her above my head with a whirring hiss, and slammed her into the dirt as hard as I could.

She was barely winded, naturally, but the stun lasted just long enough for me to stomp with all my weight and muscle onto her sternum. If she was a vanilla mortal that would've broken most of her ribs, but since she's crazy overpowered it just kept her focused on breathing rather than escaping while I tried to punch her in the face.

She _still_ caught it. Scrap. Well, I'm not winning a strength on strength contest. Back off? Maybe not yet.

I popped my knuckle blade instead. She pushed my arm back just far enough that the tip only grazed her forehead, because she's apparently _that fast_. Well, I have a pointy thing now, and she has yet to demonstrate the ability to breach my armor. She's gotta be burning energy faster than me with all that super speed. Attrition it is!

I stepped off her before she could grab my ankles and tip me over, and took a cautious guard while she zipped out of reach and hopped upright. "I thought this was supposed to be a friendly spar," Yoruichi pouted, eyes fixed on the two-pronged punching dagger extended from my knuckles.

"You've already hit me hard enough to hospitalize most humans for months," I reminded her. She actually might not have fought a vanilla mortal before if that's what she thinks is pulling punches. "I did not escalate first."

"You wouldn't have felt anything lighter."

"How exactly is you choosing to fight in your civvies _my_ problem?"

"Civvies? …Oh, no, this is my combat gear." No armor at all, not a weapon in or out of sight, and she calls it combat gear?

"That scrap-cheap spandex? Well thank the gods I'm the one teaching Ichigo then. Hate to see him get ventilated before his time."

"Keh. That stuff might work against other humans and this level of combat, but anyone strong could just power right through that crap," Yoruichi asserts. Uh-huh. Really. "You're just slowing yourself down."

"What are these strong people fighting with, then? Lightsabers? Plasma cannons? Toxic death clouds?"

"Ummm, I have no idea, I don't think so, and only if you're Kurotsuchi Mayuri. Mostly swords, although the zanpakuto can take other forms."

"And these swords are made of?"

"…Steel? What else would we make them from?"

"Then I'm keeping my armor. And so's Ichigo, as soon as I finish with his set." Steel, huh? Me and my titanium battleplate are just going to sit over here and laugh at your quaintness from magical, enchanted, bulletproof safety. Plus, you know, power armor packed full of techno goodies and concealed weapons, for me at least. If Ichigo's going to end up anywhere near as strong as this lady, he'll be better off without the bells and whistles. No point in extra weapons or hydraulics if he's going to be stronger than the armor, and fast enough to punch like an artillery piece.

"Then I'll just have to show you why that's suicide!" Aaand she speeds up. Several different, interesting, and bloody deaths flash before my eyes before narrowing down to two probable outcomes. Option one, she plants a flying kick into my breastplate and pops a couple of my ribs. Padding, shock absorbers, and supernatural metal or not, there's only so much worn armor can do against something that hits like a hundred millimeter cannon. Yes, I have survived that before; no, I wasn't up for fighting afterwards. Inertia is a merciless, vengeful void-sucker, and whiplash will mess you up for months. Not me, though; after that incident I installed some anti-shock software to hold my limbs steady if I get hit hard enough to go flying. And I popped a 'Concussion-B-Gone' pill before we started. Hasn't been invented around here yet, but there's no way I'm going into a fight without one.

Option two? Go faster. Yoruichi can outpace my brain's ability to process information. But I know what she's doing before she does. Minor time shenanigans ho! Of course, major ones would be more effective, but I pass out after doing those. Her attention's squarely on my left hand, the obviously dangerous one with the big old pointy thing sticking out of it. She didn't notice the superbright LED flashlight I'd palmed with my other hand until it was shining right into her eyes. And she certainly couldn't dodge photons.

Instead of a perfect, debilitating kick, she flinched, hit my chest at an angle, deflected off, and clotheslined herself on my mechanical, armored elbow. Hit herself with my arm harder than I ever could have, and dropped like a rock. Even drew a little blood; her nose looks like a smashed tomato now. Hehehehe. Not so perfect now, are ya?

"If we're going for first blood… actually, that's still inconclusive," Huh. The things you realize in supernatural fights, "Does it count as first blood if you're bleeding 'cause you slammed your face into my armor? That's actually never come up before."

"We're not done here."

"I'd really prefer we were," Speedsters are a pain when they're otherwise baseline humans. People who don't feel threatened by swords and small arms fire are kind of my kryptonite. Naturally, Yoruichi responded by attacking again. And this time she kept from looking directly at my hands.

Well, there was no way I could keep her from landing the hit this time, not without giving away more than I really wanted to. So I needed a way to end this without causing permanent damage. Probably to me. Although I might be able to trick her into running herself through on my sword…

Bad Zoe! Bad! No killing potential allies!

So instead, I pressed the two little metal prongs on the inside of my right gauntlet, where the palm meets the wrist, onto my insulated breastplate. Yoruichi made contact, and 'BANG!'

Down went crazy cat lady, twitching slightly. My armor is insulated and my taser has enough juice to drop a charging rhinoceros. And yes, the reason I know this is exactly what you're thinking. While she was busy recovering the feeling in her extremities, I zip tied her ankles and wrists together, six layers strong, and then swapped out the power cell on my gauntlet taser. She wiggled and strained, but wasn't able to get enough leverage to break the ties.

So she pulsed some spell, cut them clean through, and hit my helmet so hard I blacked out for a second. Gods, I hadn't expected her to be holding back that much! I saw it coming, but I couldn't get clear before she hit me. One of the weaknesses of combat precog is that if your opponent is that much faster than you, knowing what's coming just lets you watch yourself get humiliated from a dozen different angles.

I could escalate again. There's all sorts of ways to deal with a speedster, no matter how much faster than you they are. Buuut, I didn't really want to pull out the lethal options, or let Yoruichi know the remaining ways I could actually tag her. If she knows everything I have, I'm helpless if she decides to kill me.

"Paintcheck!" I groaned, raising one hand to point towards the sky, "I don't wanna eat knuckle sandwiches today, Alex. They sound like orange juice with khorneflakes and that's not tasty at all." Mmmm. Khorneflakes…

Bad Zoe! Bad! This isn't that kind of crossover! Also, eating those is _always_ a terrible idea. They go straight to my thighs.

"Do you have any idea what she's saying?" Yoruichi asked Ichigo from somewhere outside my field of vision.

"Surprisingly often," Ichigo snarked dryly. I'm so proud, "But that isn't Japanese. It might be Arabic…? I think she curses in that when she gets pissed. She said it's her first language."

"Arabic? But that doesn't make any sense," Groused the cat lady, "She's got red hair, green eyes, and a Chinese accent. A terrible Chinese accent! Admittedly, alongside a Mediterranean complexion, but that still doesn't mix."

"She also said Mandarin was the first Asian language she learned. And then went off on a two hour tangent about being worshiped by somebody called Unsaggy, but I usually don't understand her rants anyway. Besides, I think she dyes her hair."

"So she's bizarre _and_ incoherent?"

"She also holds conversations with herself and her sword. I thought she was using the headset in her helmet at first, but she has to press a button on the side for that. And she insists on killing bugs by decapitating them, incinerating them, salting the ashes, shooting the ashes with thirteen silver bullets, welding them inside little steel balls, and dropping them into the deepest water she can find. When I asked she showed me this incredibly cheesy cartoon about how 'Only You Can Prevent Reoccurring Villains'."

"What. The. Fuck. That- I don't even-" Yoruichi sputtered, "That's insane! Padded room and a straightjacket insane! Why are you willingly going within a mile of her?!"

"Well, Rukia's absolutely hopeless at teaching me the practical side of this whole soul reaper thing, and nobody else has offered to teach me jack. You certainly didn't step up, so why should you care who I'm learning from?" Ichigo growled in his customary, irritated tone, "Since I started learning from Zoe three months ago I haven't taken a single serious wound from a Hollow, and Rukia says my reiryoku control has improved exponentially. Of course, her explanation of what reiryoku _is_ was gibberish with useless, rabbit-themed diagrams, and Zoe doesn't know what the stuff is either, but apparently being able to control it is a good thing."

"Uh, reiryoku is a person's spirit energy. The more you have the stronger your soul reaper powers can be, and the better you control it the more efficient those powers will become."

"Oh. Well, that right there is why I'm learning from the crazy lady instead of Rukia. The crazy lady's explanations usually make sense."

"Ninety thousand mugs of mead on the wall," I warbled, slightly off-key, "Ninety thousand mugs of mead! You take one down, pass it around…"

"And that means she wants us to leave," Ichigo cut in over my 'singing', "She read a crappy guidebook somewhere and got it into her head that saying 'no' to or asking a Japanese citizen to scram is a felony, but she has no subtlety or tact at all, so she just does this whenever she feels like ending my lessons for the day."

"…I think I need to have a talk with an old friend," Yoruichi muttered, before vanishing with her super speed. Ichigo headed for the door the normal way.

"Eighty-eleven thousand mugs of mead on the wall!"


	5. GTA Karakura Town

The two weeks after my 'spar' with Streaky were pretty quiet. I hunted down the yacht thief, killed him, and repoed the stolen property. I also did a little petty extortion for the local 'toughs', and I use that term in the loosest possible sense, tracked down six runaway cats and returned them to their owners, kicked four puppies, committed insurance fraud on a continental scale, and beat the slag outta some loser who wanted to take out a hit on Ichigo for having the same color hair as him, and also for beating him up. Seriously? What kind of high schooler tries to put a hit on somebody for that? Even I'm not that petty. And Ichigo's learning continued apace.

He needed evasion training, so I gave his sisters paintball guns and a big drum fulla ammo, locked them in the salle with their big brother, and told them to have fun. By the end of the week I had to actually try a bit to land touches on him. Progress! Plus, he figured out how to do that super dash thing Streaky did. How to steer while doing it, not so much, but I had high hopes for the future.

But when he came in the next day, he was late. Which was odd, since I'd promised him we were done with family paintball, and he was pretty happy about that. Oh, and it wasn't him in his body. They had the looks absolutely perfect, and the voice. But this guy moved like he was walking in low gravity, and his reflexes and tells were completely different. The looks were too close to be a disguise either.

I hate dealing with possession. It's always ghosts or demons or eldritch abominations, and all of them make for an obnoxious fight. So the moment he went to knock on the door, I threw it open, dragged him inside, and had him in steel and silver shackles before he could even get a breath out.

"Who are you really?" I growled at him, heating the cuffs to just shy of sizzling with a quick spell. "Where's Ichigo? What did you do to him? I will _stake you out for fire ants_ if it's permanent." See if you enjoy having a body then.

"I'm Kon! Kon! Didn't he tell you about me?" The possessing spirit exclaimed. Too whiny for an eldritch abomination, and too coherent for that kind of ghost. Ugh, demons. Good thing years of pyromancy studies have left me fireproof. "I'm his soul pill! He has me take care of his body while he's out fighting Hollows!"

"Can you prove that?"

"Your favorite drink is vegemite cut with soy sauce and crushed Carolina Reapers until it's drinkable!" Huh. People who don't know me very well shouldn't know that. And it's not exactly the sort of thing you can guess.

"I'm listening."

"This asshole named Ishida Uryuu scattered Hollow bait all over Karakura! They'll attack anyone with high enough spirit power," Kon blabbered hastily, "Ichigo's on the job, and so's Rukia and the asshole, but they can't be everywhere at once! Orihime and Tatsuki are still at school, and nobody's near enough to cover them! You're like fifty, so you have a car, right? You can save them! Oh, my darling, precious Orihime! Your glorious breasts must be mmmmmph!"

"Yeah, car," I muttered as I stowed my trusty roll of duct tape. Kon wriggled impotently, but failed to make any headway against the tape or the steel. "Something like that."

Strapping on my armor and grabbing my weapons took a few minutes, and then I raided Ichigo's wallet for a class picture with labels. Convenient. I hoisted Kon over a shoulder, and headed out onto the street. Buick? Gross. Nissan? Meh. Toyota? I can do better. Oooh, BMW!

I dumped Kon on the sidewalk, jimmied the hood with the tip of my sword, and fiddled around with the wires and spark plug until the engine turned over. Then Kon went into the trunk, I went into the driver's seat, and off we drove. The school wasn't too hard to find; the car had a GPS, and traffic laws are for the weak. Whoever owns this car probably got mailed like a dozen tickets though. I made sure to hit every speed trap between here and there. Oh yeah. Still got it.

Didn't even scratch the car, and Kon still spent the whole trip screaming loud enough that I could hear him through the tape. And the trunk. What a pansy. Yet another reason to not want him as 'backup'.

"Alright, void suckers!" I declared as I kicked the school's front door in. "I'm here to kick butt and chew bubble gum. And I'm all outta gum." Alarms started blaring, which I could only see as a good thing. Loads of supernatural nasties will clear out if they're worried about witnesses or outnumbered badly enough. Plus, it might lure the attacker out.

And it did, sort of. Zombies! The grossest kind of undead. At least I'm pretty sure they were zombies. Taser rounds, flashbangs, and blunt trauma did exactly jack spit unless I broke enough bones to make attacking literally impossible. But the first one I put steel into's bodily fluids were under kinda high pressure for a walking stiff. Eh, still a low casualty rate.

The zombies sure slowed me down, and they had backup. Some slagger tried to snipe me like six times, but it just bounced off my armor. Never saw the bullets, which probably meant it was a Hollow. Mind control and dakka? Nasty combo. But after I switched to thermals and started flash-and-clearing rooms the sniper Hollow backed off.

Then I found a trail of bodies that totally weren't mine. Ichigo was pretty tough in a fight for a vanilla mortal back before he got his upgrade, so I figured his friends would be at the end of the line. And I was right! Tatsuki and Orihime were there, the latter without a scratch on her and the former looking pretty pasted. What a terrible sniper. One shot, one kill, right?

A big old thermal signature with no visual was piled across from them like an evil, heavily-armed hill, and there was this glowy triangle between the girls and the hill. As I watched, a bunch of small, fast-moving somethings hit the shield and shattered. Made a lotta noise though.

Pretty impressive shield if those shots were moving as fast as they sounded, but I could see Orihime's legs shaking as she started gasping for breath. She was going to run out of juice pretty fast, and 'cast from hit points' only sounds cool when you aren't the one doing it. And Tatsuki was not looking so healthy. So I stepped in.

Not sure how much damage the blessed silver bullets I picked up did, but they definitely hit the Hollow. So I emptied my submachine gun's entire clip into the thing as it turned towards me. Couldn't hurt. It opened up with more of those projectiles, which I let bounce off my armor again.

Then I set it on fire. That worked. A flamethrower is a monster hunter's best friend. As the evil ghost writhed its way to death, I turned toward the girls I'd just saved. Orihime was already projecting an oval of light around Tatsuki, which caused the smaller girl's wounds to vanish. Convenient, but…

"Oh, for… Stop that before you pass out!" I cuffed the irritatingly busty brunette over the back of the head, and her healing bubble popped. "Your friend'll be fine, especially now, and if you die of mana depletion Ichigo'll get even more angsty. If that's even possible."

"You know Ichigo?" Orihime latched on to the name like a terrier, "Is he okay? Oh my gosh, did he get attacked too?"

"What. The hell. Was that?!" Tatsuki tried to grab me by my collar. Since I'm wearing plate armor, her hand just bounced off. "What's going on here? Who are you?" Hm. Solid muscle for a vanilla mortal, and impressive reflexes even by my standards. And after the pasting she took, she's still staying between me and Orihime in… a karate stance, I think. Huh. Somebody's overprotective. That's gonna cause her some issues, 'cause a baseline human can't fight these Hollow things and hope to survive.

…I suppose Ichigo could use a sparring partner closer to his level.

"Name's Zoe Walker- Slag it, Walker Zoe. But just use my first name," I drawled, flicking the safety on my sidearm and spinning it around my index finger before holstering it. "I've been teaching Ichigo the fine arts of tactics, sword fighting, and monster hunting for the past few months. That's why you probably haven't been seeing as much of him as you'd like. The guy's as single-minded as they come. He's probably been trying to keep his friends out of it, because he can't handle other people being in danger instead of him. Well, if today's any indication, things are going to have to change. There's no unexploding that whale carcass. What a macho dweeb; I taught him better than hanging his friends out to dry like this!"

"Damn straight he's not keeping us out of this!" Tatsuki exclaimed hotly, "Who else is going to watch his back when he gets in over his head?"

"I like your style, kid," I grinned, resting an arm on the hilt of my sword, "And my idiot disciple could sure use some backup. How would you like to become a kung fu wizard?"

"Only if you teach Orihime too."

But she's eeevil. "Fine. But I reserve the right to secretly hate her for making me feel fat and anorexic at the same time."

"Lady, she makes everyone feel like that. You won't be able to hold it against her. Nobody can hate Orihime. And how is it a secret if you just told us?"

"Ms. Walker! You've got incoming!" My earpiece crackled.

"Talk to me, Halley," I tapped the 'receive call' button even as I dragged the exhausted girls into cover, "What's headed our way?"

"Local weather satellites read a massive heat signature appearing out of thin air above Karakura," Good old Halley. Best tech support I've ever had. Don't tell her I said this, but she's worth triple what she asks, easily. "Could be one of those hollow ghost things."

"Do I have a line of sight from the roof of the school?"

"Yes, but are you packing anything heavy enough to hurt an intangible creature that big?" Psh, she worries too much.

"I've got the anti-aircraft maser," I replied as I motioned for the kids to stay down and headed for a staircase I'd seen on my way in. "That ought to put a dent in it."

"The maser? Ms. Walker, your sniping skills are _garbage_ ," Halley groaned, "You'll never hit its vitals at this distance. It's a kilometer and a half from your position!"

"Good thing I have you to keep me steady," I countered cheerily, skidding to a halt on the roof. "And if I remember the manga correctly, we'll have some aim assist from Ichigo in a few minutes." While Halley continued to protest about the butterfly effect and the ethics of dropping a kaiju corpse on a populated area, I pulled the maser off my back, expanded it from its carrying configuration, and clamped it onto my left arm. "Assume the Hollow has the same proportions a human of that size would. In a moment, somebody's about to cut it from crown to toe, right through its eye. When you see that happen, line the big gun up to where the eye should be, and blast it with the maser."

"This is a waste of fuel and life," Halley complained, but she took over my motors and repositioned me to aim for the eyes. "Assuming direct control, Ms. Walker. Safeties disengaged. Preparing to fire…"

Just when I thought I might be mis-remembering how Ichigo handled this when I wasn't around, a huge, sharp shockwave traced its way up something big and invisible. The invisible thing staggered, and Halley gave it a full burn from the maser. The focused microwaves were invisible and soundless, but they left a glowing, sizzling trail of ionized particles as they drilled into what was probably the thing's eye socket. It went down, so I must have hit _something_ important. Didn't fall on anything either, so it must've fallen in the portal I vaguely recall it using in the manga. Accompanied by a shrill 'WHEEEE!' of venting steam, the maser dumped its empty fuel cells, and I scooped them up. It's probably a bad idea to leave compact hydrogen fuel cells from the distant, nonspecific spacefuture lying around in the 21st century.

"Holy shit," Tatsuki breathed. I guess she didn't stay in cover. Have to make sure she understands the importance of following directions like that in the future. "Can you teach me to do that?"

"Technically yes, but wouldn't you rather learn how to set people on fire by punching them?" Also, I probably shouldn't be giving laser weapons to teenagers.

"You can teach me to do a falcon punch!" I'll take that as a yes.

* * *

"Sensei, I'm- Tatsuki?! What the-"

"Stop and hold!" I barked at the most idiotic of my idiot disciples, and he reflexively froze. "Tats?"

The karate master (and if you can win second place in a national tournament with a broken arm you deserve that title no matter how old you are) glared at her fists, and after a second they became surrounded by a wavering shimmer. Then she let him have it.

Ichigo must've figured she couldn't hit or see him in his Soul Reaper form, because he didn't even try to roll with it. Chauvinistic scrap-for-brains. Guess he hadn't noticed that all his friends can see the local flavor of ghost. Well, he sure paid for it.

I was three meters away, and I caught a faint 'vweeet' as Tatsuki nailed the Soul Reaper in the face with her brand new elemental fist. I wouldn't've pegged someone that feisty for an affinity for air, but even if I don't use that element myself I know the theory well enough. And those sonic spells are incredibly nasty. It's like getting an entire Stones concert applied directly to your face.

Ichigo lifted like half a meter off the ground and landed flat on his back, bleeding profusely from the nose. "That's for not telling me I could have been learning this for months! And for not telling 'Hime why you keep skipping class in cosplay and coming back all beat up! You arse!"

"Nice air," I complemented, "But you lost the spell when you made contact, and it took way too long to charge up." I motioned her back towards the giant block of steel I set up in the back, "Get back to the block, and keep punching until you can get a full kata without breaking your focus. Once you can do that, we'll start working on speed and reflexes enhancement. You gotta be able to hold all this at once if you want to keep up with Ichigo."

"Hai, Sensei!" Tatsuki bowed formally, and jogged for the block. Actual respect! I totally have a new favorite disciple.

"Hey, Orihime! You want in on this?" Hey, she deserves a little petty revenge too.

"Um, is he going to be all right?" The… larger girl floated over, looking concerned. I guess that's a no. Yes, floated. If you've got a shield as awesome as hers turned out to be, you practice it ad nauseum. In this case, by sitting on it and floating everywhere until you get too exhausted to hold it. Not every training method needs to be made of shonen and Drill Sergeant Nasty.

"Eh, he'll be fine. A little pain is good for him. Besides, Tats isn't strong enough to cause internal injuries yet," I dragged the idiot kid upright by the wrist, "So, Ichigo. Do you want me to tell you how bad you slagged up, or would you rather guess?"

"Please just tell me," He groaned, tilting his head back in an attempt to make his nose stop bleeding. Fun fact, it goes faster that way than if you tilt down. "My guesses will just make it worse." He is learning at least.

"Well, both of them can see ghosts. And Orihime developed powers on her own," I gleefully informed him, "She's got these hairpins that turn into little fairies. They make a shield that as far as I can tell is indestructible," Behind us, something made a noise like shattering glass and Orihime hit the ground with a squeak. "It doesn't last very long, though. We're working on that. She's also got a field that can heal people inside it, and a slicey projectile attack. Very handy. Tatsuki can see ghosts, but nothing else on her own, so I've got her working on the basics of my flavor of elemental magic. She's got a gift for air, so weather magic, super speed, and weaponized rock n' roll are all in her future. And, no, you can't just protect them from everything, you dunce."

"Why the hell not?" Ichigo shot back with a bit of his characteristic fire and lack of forethought, "I didn't have a choice about this, but they should! I-"

"Either one look like they don't want to be here?" I poked him right between the eyes, "They asked me, not the other way around. Tatsuki wasn't exactly thrilled that you were leaving her in the dust, and Orihime's crushing on you so bad she'd follow you through the gates of the underworld." By the sound of it, Orihime fell off her shield again when she heard me say that. "You are not subtle 'bout it, kid! But even if they wanted out, they don't have a choice."

"What? Why not?"

"Ichigo, what's the first thing you learned about Hollows?"

"They go after people like me! With lots of spirit… energy… Oh, shit!"

"Oh, now you get it. Yeah, they can't even leave the safe house until they're at least strong enough to defend themselves and their families. Somehow, I don't think either of them will settle for that, though."

"So…"

"Get used to competition, kid," I pumped a bit of mana into my palm, and slapped him across the back, "Go do footwork drills. I've got new disciples to break in. Oi, Tatsuki! Don't hit it that hard! You'll hurt yourself. Let the magic do the heavy lifting, and focus on speed and precision. Even if you only scratch them, that concert you've got wrapped around your fists will lay them flat…"


	6. Trial by Ice Princess

"Ms. Walker? Ichigo just triggered his panic beacon." Slag. Just once, I'd like Halley to give me good news.

I issued a quantum entanglement communicator to each of my disciples for emergency use. Sure, it could be trouble if somebody sciency gets their greasy mitts on it, but I thought the risk was worth it for impossible to jam distress signals and a way to set meetings without making my safe house traceable. Knowing Ichigo, though, he wouldn't use his distress beacon unless he was really in trouble.

"Tatsuki, Orihime! We're leaving in five!" I rapped my metal fist against the door of their shared room, "Ichigo just sent us an SOS. I'll do the heavy lifting if the hostiles are still around. Orihime, you're on medical duty. Tatsuki, slag anybody who tries to get clever and gank the cleric. Don't attract attention to yourselves. That's my job. Get Ichigo, and get to safety. I'll comm when it's safe. Move it!"

The girls were ready in three, in the reinforced street clothes and flak vests I provided for emergencies. After the third expensive car went AWOL people stopped parking on this block, but fortunately Ichigo was close enough for the Orihime force field taxi. We hopped on the indestructo-triangle, and she took us there in a single hop. When we got there, I was thrilled to learn that my own training was paying off. Never stop learning.

After a few harrowing Hollow encounters, I decided I was tired of fighting invisible things and asked Rukia if she could teach me how to see them. Turned out she could. Happy days.

We hit the ground and the girls made themselves scarce behind a nearby hedge. Air magic's good at sound, so the two void-suckers I caught a glimpse of wouldn't hear them coming. My job was to keep them from being seen while they extracted the injured, and assuming Ichigo was still standing help him win. And if he wasn't…

A few more corpses in the river wouldn't mean much to me.

I jogged around the block and beheld Ichigo in his Soul Reaper form squaring off with a couple of people. This wierdo redhead who thought tattoos were an acceptable substitute for eyebrows with a saw-toothed sword, and a spectacularly androgynous person with these ugly hair thingies and a white coat. Both of them were wearing Soul Reaper outfits and carrying katana sheathes. Girlmangirl had a sword in his. The browless wonder's sheathe was empty, but he didn't have a sword that matched up with it. Two words, idiot. Matching. Accessories.

"Hey, is this the weaboo club?" I quipped as I clanked and hissed up to stand at Ichigo's right. My armor is many things, but even if I didn't have the power assist active it clanks like a sack of coins. The hydraulics and servos add quite a bit more noise. "I know I'm a bit late, and I look way too cool to be in your club, but please don't hold it against me." The redhead's nonexistent eyebrows twitched in irritation, but the man-woman barely spared me a glance.

"Another insect crawls from the woodwork," He muttered, sounding very bored and very baritone. Guess it is a guy. A girly, girly guy. "Exterminate her, too, Renji. If you can."

"Hah, a loser Soul Reaper who doesn't even know his sword's name and some idiot with barely enough reiryoku to be a shaman?" The browless dude, apparently named Renji, bragged. "No problem! This'll be over in five minutes!"

"So he named his sword? What, does he think he's King Arthur or something?" I asked Ichigo, "Because nobody here is that awesome. Except me."

"No, it's some kind of technique," Ichigo informed me, "He shouted the name of his katana, and it changed shape. He got a lot faster and stronger, and it's a snake sword now." It's a _snake sword_? This is gonna be funny.

"Oh, is that all?" I grinned, stepping to the fore and placing a hand on my sword. Inside my billowing, green cloak I summoned lightning magic in preparation for my next trick. Bluffing time! "Anybody can do that!"

"You? Release a Zanpakuto?" Scoffed Renji, "You're just a shaman! You couldn't if you tried!"

"Good thing I'm not a shaman, then," I informed him, "Ordinarily I'd kill you for being so rude, but since this is a first offence I think I'll let it slide. _I_ am a _wizard_!" Shaman, really? That's like telling somebody with three PhDs that all her degrees were earned by her past lives.

"That doesn't make you any less human."

"Oh yeah? Well, check this!" I channeled the lightning into my arming sword and drew it, sending a pair of electric dragons swirling around the blade as I flourished it into a high guard. "RYUJIN NO KEN WO KURAE!"

Ichigo facepalmed vigorously. Back in a nearby hedge, Tatsuki clapped a hand over Orihime's mouth to cover her gasp of awe. The guy bleeding out to our left (when did he get here?) moaned piteously. But Rukia, Renji, and pretty boy ate it up.

Pretty boy's eyes widened a fraction, and his mouth opened a bit. Talk about an ice princess. Renji and Rukia weren't nearly so restrained. You could've landed a fighter jet on their tongues.

"This foe is beyond you, Renji," Pretty boy stated, "Kill the boy. I will deal with her."

"Hell no!" Blustered the enemy redhead, "Her reiatsu didn't increase at all! She's just bluffing!" Putting action to words, he extended his personal version of the least practical sword ever and sent it whistling at me. I adjusted my guard slightly, steel met very electric steel, and the discharge fused all the little wires in Renji's weapon into a solid mass. It also blew his sandals off, put all his hair standing on end, and laid him out in a twitching, smoking heap. For a moment I thought I'd killed him just like that, but then he groaned, blood trickling from his ears and eyes.

I responded by shaping more lightning dragons. "Let the dragons consume you!" I shouted in a cheesy, very fake Japanese accent. Unfortunately, coat guy didn't seem intimidated by how I one-shotted his minion. It's never that easy.

Especially with what he was planning. This was gonna look awesome from the outside. But on the inside, it was gonna suck. Coat guy vanished just like Yoruichi did. He was way faster than me. But he had nothing on Streaky the Super Cat.

In the time it took him to cover the thirty or so meters between us, I took a half back. Then he hit me like a freight train. Even with my armor enhancement, I staggered a few steps back, and a couple of my ribs cracked from the sheer force behind his blow. But, his sword's tang snapped like a dry twig under the impact. Bits of hilt went flying everywhere, and the blade itself wound up sunk ten centimeters into a nearby stone fence. Unenhanced, steel blade? Meet titanium battleplate. This is why people with super speed and strength don't use ordinary swords. If you're cutting anything tougher than the average person's flesh, it'll break for sure.

 _That_ certainly got through ice princess' façade of stoicism. While he was busy gaping in shock, I took the opportunity to stick him in the guts and discharge both dragons. This failed to take the fight out of him, so I popped my prosthetic's knuckle blades and went for the throat. He held me off one-handed (so unfair!), and pushed me away. I kept a firm grip on my sword, though, so when I stumbled back it came too and he started bleeding profusely from his gut wound.

Then he nailed me in the chest with this energy beam spell. I saw it coming, but couldn't dodge. Even if I stopped time and moved aside, he was fast enough to adjust, and I couldn't hold the stop long enough to reach cover. My armor held, but the bastard hit me right over my cracked ribs, and I whited out for like a second. And he went for Ichigo! Slag!

I tried to intercept, but broken ribs are not conducive to distance running. Ice princess retrieved the sharpest piece of his sword, shivved Ichigo in the chest with it, grabbed Rukia and his smoldering minion, and booked. Slag, slag, slag!

Well, at least nobody died. Speaking of which, "Orihime! Tatsuki! They fell back! And we could really use some medical attention here. Ichigo and bleeding guy first. Unless I start coughing up blood or something, my ribs will keep."

"O-okay! Oh my gosh! Ichigo and Uryuu!" Orihime dashed from hiding, and shrouded them in her healing field while Tatsuki trotted over to me.

"Those guys just kidnapped Rukia! Right off the street!" Tatsuki vented, "I couldn't see the tall one move at all. Ugh, I would have been dead weight. Damn it."

"Hey, a few weeks ago you wouldn't have seen him at all," I pointed out, "Keep it in perspective, kid. If you lose your nerve you'll be no use on the rescue mission."

"Rescue- Of course I'm going on the rescue mission. They just attacked my best friend and two of my classmates," Growled the girl, slamming her fist into her palm with a hollow 'boom'. "They need a good ass-kicking!"

"But how do we find them? They're so fast, they could be anywhere by now!" Orihime pointed out, "Like Cambodia! Or Croatia! Or Canada! In the strategic maple syrup reserve, with an army of evil maple Ent bodyguards!"

"Anything's possible," I acknowledged, as Orihime started work on my ribs. So good to have a healer on the team. "We're gonna need more intel. I'll have Halley feel around the interwebs, but I'm not sure how much she'll be able to find. She doesn't have any spirit power, so she can't see these guys without infrared scanners. Anyone has any ideas, feel free to share them."

"You could ask nicely?" All of us who were upright, me, Tatsuki, and Orihime, whirled and presented various weapons and spells. This scraggly guy in a striped hat and a set of wooden clogs raised his hands defensively at the display of hostility. "Hey, hey, I'm not here to fight. I'm here to help. You see, I just happen to have a portal to the Soul Society, the place where souls go when they die. The place official Soul Reapers live when they aren't on duty. It'll take some time to set up, but that's okay. We'll need the time to get Ichigo his Soul Reaper powers back. You'll need him at full strength if you want to pull this off."

Then Ichigo sat up behind us, moving kinda stiffly but without leaking. Orihime does good work. I almost forgive her for being prettier than me. "What do you mean, regain my powers?" He growled, "I don't feel any different." He didn't look different, either. Same dorky Soul Reaper uniform, same oversized sword, same scowl.

"Wha- But- That shouldn't be possible!" Hat and clogs guy protested, "He was hit in his Soul Chain and Soul's Sleep, the physical seats of his power! That should have completely removed his Soul Reaper abilities."

"Orihime's an awesome healer," I told him, "And hey, maybe ice princess made a mistake. He can't be as accurate holding the blade as with the hilt."

"…Ice princess," Hat and clogs guy snorted in amusement, "That was Captain Kuchiki Byakuya. And while that's not a bad nickname for him, it wouldn't do to underestimate him. Captain-level Soul Reapers seal away nine-tenths of their power when they visit the world of the living so they don't accidentally give humans powers." Holy moley. "And he never released his Zanpakuto. Never had the chance. How did you do break it so easily, anyway?"

"I didn't do scrap. He hit magical super-metal with a thin, steel blade at very high speed," I pointed out the obvious, "Even if he was reinforcing it with magic or something, there's a certain point where physics takes over. And I don't believe we ever caught your name. Or why we should trust or even believe anything you say."

"Oh, I'm Urahara Kisuke," the guy shared breezily, "I run a little candy store called Urahara Shoten."

"He also supplied Rukia with all her Soul Reaper tools," Ichigo added, "I think we can trust him to be able to do what he says he can. His motives, not so much, but can we afford to be picky?" Unfortunately, no.

"Alright," I decided, "For lack of any other options, we'll trust you for now. In the mean-time, we're gonna need to train. All three of you. If that guy was at one-tenth strength, we'll need all the skill we can get."

"About that," Urahara cut in, "Might I make a suggestion? I have this giant, underground training center you could use without worrying about collateral damage. And you've done quite well for him so far, but you have to admit that you don't know much about Soul Reapers and their powers. Although you seem able to fake it well."

"Fair enough," I conceded, "You saying you do?"

"Sure. Well, myself and an old friend of yours," Urahara stated cheerfully. It's gonna be Streaky, isn't it?

"Hey, hey! What about Ishida?" Ichigo brought up, motioning to the guy who was bleeding out earlier.

"What about me, Soul Reaper?" The guy scoffed, adjusting his glasses in that special weaboo way that catches the light, "I'm coming along."

"Like slag you are," I informed him, "You're even more of a loose cannon than _I_ am. Somehow. The only reason I didn't hunt you down after that little hissy fit of yours with the Hollow bait is that Ichigo seems to think you have uses beyond converting oxygen to carbon dioxide. Only I am allowed to try to kill my disciples! Everybody else better get in line!" Ishida and Urahara both stared at me like they couldn't tell if I was joking or not. My loyal disciples took it in stride, which is why they get to live.

"Feh. Anything Kurosaki can do, I can do better," Ishida asserted.

"You have any siblings?"

"Uh, no?"

"Then you'll never be a better brother than him. Boom! Headshot!" I made a little finger gun, and mimed firing it at his face, "Now scram. The adults are talking."

"Actually, we could use some cannon fodder," Ichigo suggested with a sly smile, "And he isn't completely useless in a fight."

"He's awfully skinny," I dissented, "How many bullets could he really stop?"

"Soul Reapers don't use guns," Ichigo replied, "And even somebody that skinny is worth a sword or two. And that bow of his is really good for small fry."

"Why you!" Ishida mastered his temper with great difficulty. But he did. "You say that now, but you'll be singing a different tune when I defeat more Soul Reapers than you."

"Who cares about that?" Ichigo shot back, "This is a rescue mission! As long as Rukia gets home safe, you can fight as many Soul Reapers as you want."

"So you're admitting defeat already?" Uryuu did his stupid Ikari-Gendo-glasses thing.

"Why you-" Ichigo got right up in the idiot's face.

"Aaand kiss!" I shouted at them, giving both a thumbs up. Tatsuki endorsed the sentiment with a hearty cheer while Orihime blushed bright red and started worrying at her lower lip with her teeth. Ichigo and Uryuu jerked apart like they'd been magnetized.

"It-it isn't like that, damn it!"

"Suuure it isn't."

* * *

"Wow! It's so huge!" Orihime gushed, skipping forward in excitement, "How'd you get such a huge space under your shop?"

"With a big slagging drill and blatant disregard for property zoning," I pulled the excitable teen back to earth, "Don't encourage hams who aren't me. Too much ham spoils the soup."

"Such an excellent reaction!" Kisuke smiled at us, gesturing around the giant space he'd somehow carved under his candy store, "Welcome to the Urahara training grounds!"

"Yeah, yeah, it's real impressive," I muttered, "Aren't we crunched for time?"

"Point," Urahara conceded, "Ichigo, come with me. You won't stand a chance in Soul Society unless you can learn to release your Zanpakuto. Since you didn't get mauled by Captain Kuchiki before I could get there, we have a lot more time to train than I planned for. We should make the most of it."

"Captain Kuchiki?" Tatsuki asked, "Does that mean he's related to Rukia? Why would he kidnap her then? Wait, was he trying to rescue her from _us_?"

"Nothing of the sort," Ichigo shared, "He wanted to take her back so she could be put on trial for loaning me her powers to protect my family from a Hollow. Oh, uh, since you're an expert, hat-and-clogs, do I still have her powers or something? She didn't even try to fight back before."

"Nope. Your powers are your own now. I checked," Urahara replied, "Transfer techniques are temporary anyway, and when the Captain stabbed you he cut out her powers and they returned to their rightful owner. Orihime's healing technique somehow brought out your own Soul Reaper powers to fill the gap. I have no idea how, but that's something to study when we're not pressed for time. And yes, Captain Kuchiki is indeed Rukia's brother. But he is very dedicated to following the rules. Even if he disagreed with her conviction, he would enforce it."

"You're talking like you know Soul Society's big names pretty well," I observed, "Care to share your intel?"

"I don't know as much as you think," The shopkeeper prevaricated, "If nothing else because I haven't been in Soul Society for a very long time, and there's been some significant turnover among the captains. But I can give you a few tips. If you see a big guy with bells in his hair and an eye patch, or a very old, scarred, bald guy with a long beard, or a dude who looks kinda like a clown, you'll wanna run for your life. The other captains, and you can tell they're captains because of their white coats, are strong, but to my knowledge they'll fight to capture, not to kill. Unfortunately, a lot of the captains who were serving when I was there no longer are, and I was never much for watching spars, so I can't give you much more than that." He was definitely hiding something, but I figured pushing wouldn't get us very far with this guy. He'd obfuscate further just for the fun of it. And a list of faces to run away from very fast is better than nothing at all.

"Eh, whatevs. Good to know. Tatsuki, Orihime, let's find somewhere out of the line of fire to practice," I motioned them towards a likely-looking patch of rocks and dirt.

"I hope you don't mean to do so alooone. Why, Chad and I would feel so _excluded_." I jumped high enough to clear a decimeter. While wearing my armor.

"Streaky. Of course. Shouldda guessed you'd be working with these slobs," I grumbled, "Paws off my disciples, kitty, or next time I'll rig my windows with skunk stench."

"Chad?" Orihime exclaimed, leaping up to hug this huge, swarthy guy who towered over all of us. His right arm was covered in some kind of black and red armor. "You're here too?"

"Yeah, he got powers the same day you two did," Yoruichi shared, "After he killed a Hollow that was attacking Ichigo's sister Karin, I patched him up, brought him back here, and have been training him ever since. He's a quick study, but there's not a lot of flexibility in his ability. It feels incomplete, somehow. You're a human, Zoe. Any ideas?"

"Hm. Tats, 'Hime, Chad! Spar to tap out," I ordered them, "Last one standing gets the first set of armor."

"Armor?" Tatsuki asked excitedly.

"Yeah, the same kind as mine, tailored for you and your fighting style. You didn't think I was gonna let y'all go fight a bunch of crazy super-samurai without protection, did you?"

"Hellz yes. You ready to get your butt kicked, Chad?" Tatsuki grinned, bowing to the other humans.

"Is Orihime gonna fight too?" Chad asked, apparently taken aback by this. He had no problems with sparring against Tatsuki, though, so I wasn't sure what his problem was. "She doesn't like to fight."

"I-I don't," the bubbly brunette admitted, "But I can't just sit on the sidelines either, or I'll be holding my friends back. And nothing says I have to… kill people to fight. It's harder to fight that way, but it's the right thing to do."

I decided not to mention the mountains of stiffs I've racked up over the years. See, I can show self-restraint!

"I can admire that kind of resolve, even if I think it's a bit naïve," Yoruichi decided, "If you think you've got what it takes, go for it!" The two of us settled in to watch the kids go at it.

Chad immediately headed for Tatsuki. He probably didn't think Orihime was as much of a threat. The boy wasn't fast, but he built up an impressive amount of momentum as he charged.

Orihime took advantage of being ignored to set up her shield barrier at ankle height. Chad ran into it and went down like a bag 'o bricks. Then, she dissipated it, reformed it above him, and mashed the poor dope into the dirt. Chad flailed around a bit, but failed to get leverage.

Tatsuki closed in on Orihime and engaged her up close, confident in her martial arts skills. And rightfully so; the kid was dangerously skilled before she learned air magic. Tatsuki didn't bother with her sonic fist, which isn't really a good weapon for a friendly spar anyway, but she did get some pretty unbelievable air time and some mid-leap turns that shouldn't be possible as she stayed on her friend.

Orihime gave a surprisingly good accounting of herself, but without her shield she couldn't stand up to the karate champion for very long. Luckily for her, she got a distraction when Chad decided to get creative and fired a giant energy blast into the ground below him. He then rolled into the resulting hole to escape the pin. Orihime recalled her shield just in time to catch a heavy, flying kick from Tatsuki, and shoved the smaller girl back with a shield bash. Chad fired a second blast at Tatsuki, but she easily evaded with one of her floaty jumps.

Orihime fired her black fairy at Chad while he was busy firing, with a shout of "Tsubaki! I reject!" The projection extended a pair of fuzzy, blunt wings of mana as it screamed forward and caught Chad in the throat. While he tried to breathe around the huge, blotchy bruise it left, the little thing curved toward Tatsuki, who clapped hard, and blew it away with a burst of sound.

Tatsuki tried to close with her friend again, but with Tsubaki and her shield at the ready, Orihime was able to keep the fight at a distance. Air magic is great for a lot of things, but its long-range options tend to be restricted to 'alter the weather and hope it's effective', 'pump enough mana through a soundburst to make ludicrous gibs', or 'teleport closer'. Yes, teleportation falls under air magic. No, I don't know why. My doctoral theses were on military history and quantum physics with a focus on temporal mechanics. Knowing how to make the magics is enough for me. All of those require more mana and experience that poor Tatsuki had at the time. Eventually, Orihime clipped her opponent in the temple and I called the fight because Chad was turning funny colors and probably needed some heals. Also, Tatsuki had a concussion, and no matter what she said was in no condition to fight.

"Well, Chad, you certainly have striking power," I acknowledged, jerking my head towards the craters he left, "But your attack is really slow. You need a lot of wind up, it doesn't move particularly fast, and correct me if I'm wrong it's quite tiring to use?" He confirmed this with a nod. "You're a bit faster, and much stronger and tougher than you look like you should be with your arm active, but Tatsuki and Orihime were both fast enough to deal with your ranged attacks and you couldn't close in to use your size and strength to your advantage. I'd suggest trying to fire smaller, faster blasts that use less energy if you can. All the raw power in the world is useless unless you can land your hits."

"Of course!" Yoruichi facepalmed, chuckling ruefully, "To be honest, I've never had trouble making contact before. I'm always at least as fast and agile than whoever I fight. I guess that's given me a bit of a blind spot. You've got a much better grasp on matching strength versus speed if our spar was any indication. Why don't you take Chad, and I'll give Tatsuki some pointers since you're teaching her to boost her speed and agility?"

"Seems wise," I decided, "Hey, Chad. We're shooting skeet. I'm gonna throw rocks, and you're going to shoot them out of the sky with the smallest blasts you can make. Orihime? Try to block the blasts with your shield spell. You've gotten good at moving it around while it's active, but this is a different kind of practice. I don't expect Soul Society's samurai types to be lobbing artillery at us, but better safe than sorry with something like that."

"See? Better already," Streaky stated cheerily, "Hey, Tatsuki, tag! You're it!" She vanished in a blur.

"Really?" The aspiring wind mage groused, "Well… I suppose it'll be good practice." Steadying her breathing, she moved through a few focusing gestures, wrapping herself in friendly winds, and dashed off at speed.

"Are you insane? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!" I raised an eyebrow at Ichigo's distant outburst.

"Orihime, you take over rock throwing for a while," I instructed her, "I think I've gotta go talk to Ichigo and Urahara."

I'd only taken a few steps in their direction when they Shunpoed (apparently the name of the super speed Soul Reaper move) in front of me. "Tell hat-and-clogs why he's an idiot, please," Ichigo requested, glowering darkly at the older man.

"It's not stupid! It's necessary!" Kisuke protested, "You'll never defeat a seated officer, let alone a lieutenant or captain, unless you master this."

"Master what?" I asked, "I mean, we can play twenty questions if you'd prefer. Is it… a mineral?"

"A mineral? No, it's a basic philosophy that he has to learn," Urahara specified, "The strength of a Soul Reaper's Zanpakuto is tied to their raw power, but also their resolve. That's why Captain Kuchiki's blade broke when he hit you with it. He wasn't expecting you to be hard to cut, so his sword was dull and brittle. Ichigo's blade is full of fear right now. When he defends, he's afraid to be cut. When he attacks, he's afraid of being countered, and when he gets through, he's afraid of killing his opponent. If he doesn't learn to channel his killing intent, his blade will stay dull and weak forever, and his Zanpakuto will never answer him!"

"And I'm saying that sounds like fucking murder!" Ichigo yelled back, "I'm going to rescue Rukia, but I'm not going to turn myself into a monster to do it!"

"Do you want to die?" Kisuke growled, "Because if you go into Soul Society with such foolish sentiments, you. Will. Die."

"What I want," Ichigo definitely beat Kisuke out on gruff and growly, "Is to, when this is over and Rukia is safe, come home to my sisters and my dad and be able to _look them in the eyes_. Some of these Soul Reapers are real douches, but I bet lots of them have nothing to do with this! When we break into Soul Society, they'll be doing their jobs. Which have to include trying to stop the hostile, heavily armed intruders." Ichigo firmed up his scowl, into that expression he gets when he's making a stand and nothing short of death or dismemberment is gonna sway him. "They might be my enemies today, but they're brothers, sisters, fathers… and _mothers_ themselves. I don't care what's at stake. If I have to become _him_ to win, that's not a victory. It's not honorable. It's not right. And it's not me. There's a better way. If you can't see it, hat-and-clogs, that's your problem, not mine." Huh. Somebody's working some issues out. Not unexpected, what with how he feels about the Grand Fisher, and that I've been blatantly conditioning him to question non-me authority and think for himself.

In his hands, Ichigo's Zanpakuto shimmered, ripples spreading up the blade. Apparently there was some feedback, because he raised it to eye level. We all got a good view as the steel shifted, and the edge and the back of the blade switched places, leaving the hardened steel blunt and the soft back razor-edged. Although, I suppose with Soul Reaper blades the quality of the metal isn't as important, so both sides will still work. It also shrunk again; that wasn't new, but previously you could only see the difference with 'before' and 'after' photos. This time, it was very noticeable. The thing was still big, but practically large, closer to the classic nodachi greatsword than a zanbato. And in addition to swapping the edges, the ripples left behind the characteristic waves of well-folded steel, gleaming slightly blue under Urahara's harsh, fluorescent lights.

"Huh. That is a sakabato. A reverse-edged sword. Somebody's been reading Rurouni Kenshin," I analyzed. Ichigo twitched in response; still got it, "Somehow, I don't think your murder-hobo philosophy is gonna work on him anymore, but by all means feel free to keep trying."

"One side for Hollows, and one side for everybody else," Ichigo smirked, running a hand down the blunted edge of his sword, "Fitting, I guess. Yeah, not on board with the whole murder thing. You got anything else to teach, or am I back with the people who don't try to spread their crazy around?"

Urahara responded by drawing a cane sword and taking a lazy swing at Ichigo. My disciple quite sensibly parried, and sparks flew as the two swords bounced off each other. "I'd say as long as your resolve holds up… You might be taking the foolish path, but the world could use more fools like you. You still need to achieve your Shikai, your initial release, but this is a very good step in the right direction. My usual method of trying to kill you until you tap into your hidden potential is probably going to backfire spectacularly now, though. Go train with your friends; I need to brainstorm." Urahara waved us off and plopped himself down on a rock, muttering incomprehensibly.

"How'd it go?" Yoruichi asked curiously as we walked back over. She's a cat, so I should've known she wouldn't let this go.

"Great. Ichigo had a life-changing philosophical revelation that rendered all of Kisuke's training plans completely useless. Apparently, he never considered that somebody might want to _not_ murder people," I rolled my eyes, "I mean, I love a good old bout of indiscriminate carnage as much as the next murderous psychopath, but at least I try to make sure I only cut loose on people who really deserve it. Like rapists, and slavers, and people who order soy drinks with dairy toppings."

"Oh. Shikai training didn't go well, then," Streaky deduced, "Kisuke will probably figure something else out eventually, but his spontaneous plans have a very bad track record."

"Do you have a Zanpakuto?" I asked, "Or know how other people have gotten theirs to release?"

"I learned Shikai like most Soul Reapers do," Yoruichi explained, "Towards the end of my time at the Court Guards' academy, after years of meditation and soul searching, I met my Zanpakuto's spirit in the Jinzen ritual. I introduced myself, we hated each other, and I've relied on my other skills ever since. Most Soul Reapers do it that way, but without the animosity."

"So, meditation?" Ichigo raised an eyebrow, "That's it?"

"It probably won't work fast enough," qualified the crazy cat lady, "But it's worth a shot. Who knows? You've pulled off miracles before, like surviving Byakuya-boy with your powers intact. Next to that, Jinzen in days? Easy peasy."

So Ichigo sat down and meditated, and we watched. That got old pretty fast. Fortunately, Yoruichi and I had other disciples to divide our time between while he tried to get metaphysical with his sword. Three hours later, he opened his eyes, wearing that shallow grin he uses because he doesn't like to show emotions.

"I take it you were successful beyond our wildest expectations?"

"To a point. My Zanpakuto is a dick," Ichigo stated, "But then, I can be a bit of a dick sometimes, so I suppose we're well-matched. He says he'd love to let me go through the years of training everybody else does, but if I have to do that I'll never rescue Rukia. And we both want her safe. So he's giving me provisional access to Shikai, on the condition that I do the training right once things calm down. He also said he's going to make me work at least ten times as hard for Bankai, which I'm assuming is an even stronger version of the sword, to make up for it. Because he's a dick."

Yoruichi winced at that, but quickly rallied to the good news. "But you can use Shikai? He told you his name?"

"Yeah," Ichigo stood up, and held his sword out in front of him, "You guys might want to stand back. Renji's sword got longer when it released, and mine's bigger than his.

"Cover the stars! Zangetsu!"


	7. Hammering Out the Slag

**A.N. My editor, Infamous Storm, has decided to move on to other projects. If any of you loyal readers would be interested in getting previews and helping me catch stupid mistakes before they get posted, feel free to get in touch with me.**

* * *

'CRUNCH!' It is very difficult to slam a traditional Japanese sliding door. Captain Kenpachi Zaraki did it anyways. "Alright, who'd'ya want me ta kill this time?" He drawled as he sauntered into the room, heedless of the annoyed and/or murderous glares directed his way. Who cared if he'd pissed off the twelve most powerful people in Soul Society? Fighting the other twelve captains at once sounded like a fun fight (Even if Zaraki had to admit it probably wouldn't last very long. Not even he was that strong.).

"No one at this moment," From behind his perpetual squint, Captain-General Yamamoto rolled his eyes at the young Kenpachi's posturing. "Depending on Captain Kuchiki's report, I may have a task for you later."

"Damn, pretty boy had some _fun_ ," The massive, scarred Soul Reaper's visible eye widened. How'd he missed this? Kuchiki was laid out on a stretcher, covered in bandages. And his zanpakuto was nowhere in sight. The prissy bastard would never leave it voluntarily. "Who fucked you up?"

"That is what we have been _waiting_ to _hear_ ," A petite woman in a captain's uniform growled at Zaraki. "But some people seemed to think you would learn something from listening."

"You callin' me stupid?" The hulking, bloodthirsty captain grinned, "Them's fighting words. Always wanted to see how strong you were. Hey, do I get another division when I kill her?"

"You would die before you took two steps in my direction, you odiferous thug!" The woman's hands dropped to the tanto sheathed at her waist, her weight shifting as she prepared to strike.

"Zaraki, Soi Fon, enough!" Yamamoto shut them down. Honestly, some days he wondered if he was teaching kindergarten rather than leading the strongest military force in any world. "We will listen to what Captain Kuchiki has to say. He defied Captain Unohana's decree of strict bed rest to speak to us, so I assure you that it is important." The cantankerous captains fell in line after hearing that. Nobody defied the leader of the medical division without an excellent reason, and a very persuasive argument with which to placate her.

"Well, speak up, pretty boy," Zaraki grunted.

"Obviously," Byakuya began, "My mission to arrest and recover the rogue Kuchiki Rukia ran into… complications. She had… defenders, who ignored her wishes and attempted to prevent me from retrieving her. They were far more effective than I had anticipated. I have already given their descriptions to the fourth division's sketch artist, but I will repeat them here for your benefit. The first was a Quincy boy, I'd estimate of fifteen years, with dark hair and a slender face and build. He was approximately tenth seat in skill, and Renji defeated him easily."

"A quincy? Oooh, how interesting," Another of the captains, a rather bizarre-looking individual clad in purple face paint, licked his lips in excitement or possibly hunger, "They didn't all commit suicide by us after all. Is he still alive?"

"Probably," Captain Kuchiki confirmed, trying not to think too hard about what Captain Kurotsuchi Mayuri was planning to do with the boy, "After the Quincy was defeated, a Soul Reaper I've never seen before turned up to fight us. He had orange hair, a sword as long as he was tall, and an extremely effective and unorthodox fighting style, matching the description of the human who stole Rukia's powers. He lacked the Quincy's control, but his raw power and skill at close combat were far greater, and Renji needed shikai to defeat him. I would estimate this boy's skills at eight seat. However, as he was about to be defeated, another Soul Reaper confronted us, a stocky, red-haired woman with numerous scars. Her reiatsu levels, even as we prepared for battle, did not climb above that of a mediocre human shaman, and her sword was of a European style. I did not expect her to challenge even Renji. Then, she released her zanpakuto, an elemental or kido-type of some sort, and defeated him by parrying a single one of his strikes. Simply touching her blade with his dealt enough damage that the Fourth division is still working on him. His zanpakuto was melted in places by the powerful kido spell passing through it. I attempted to swiftly end the fight with an assault using shunpo, and believed she would be easily defeated when she did not even attempt to dodge. Instead, my blade shattered on her chest, and she impaled me through the gut. I created an opening with Byakurai, attempted to remove Rukia's powers from the orange-haired boy, grabbed Rukia and Renji, and retreated to Soul Society. The woman did not follow. However, as I was wielding a piece of Senbonzakura's broken blade, I am uncertain as to whether I actually hit the boy's Soul's Sleep and removed his stolen power." The captains stood in silence a moment, as they parsed the unbelievable tale.

"Your zanpakuto, a captain's zanpakuto, _broke_ on her chest?" Soi Fon murmered, "Even with the restriction seal, to overwhelm you to that degree she'd have to be stronger… than… Zaraki… Oh, this is bad."

"Not necessarily stronger," A brown-haired, spectacled captain analyzed, "Just in that weight class, and as good at reiryoku control and kido as captains are supposed to be. Which, admittedly, isn't exactly reassuring. Neither is the fact that we didn't know somebody that strong _existed_ until today."

"So take your pick, stronger than Zaraki, or just as strong and a lot more skilled?" A short, silver-haired captain groaned, fingers tapping at the hilt peeking over his shoulder in agitation, "Gee, thanks, Captain Aizen. You sure know how to make people not sleep at night. Would it be too much to assume that the power thief was taught to use his powers by this woman?"

"What was her zanpakuto's name?" Yamamoto cut in. He knew the name of every sword that had ever passed through the thirteen Court Guards, and was already wracking his brain for every lightning shikai he'd ever encountered.

"I believe it was Ryujin," Captain Kuchiki stated, "Her release phrase was 'Ryujin no ken wo kurae'. The shikai called a pair of dragons made of kido lightning to smite anyone who touched the blade. Does that mean anything to any of you?" The captains looked at each other uneasily, but eventually all shook their heads.

"I suggest we search our company records," Soi Fon offered, "We've had a lot of soldiers over the years. It's not inconceivable that someone went forgotten. Or maybe they didn't have their shikai during their service. Somebody has to know who this is."

* * *

"Aaaah-CHOOO!"

"What was that, LT?"

"Nothing! Just sneezed," Kotetsu Isane, lieutenant of the 4th company, exclaimed into her headset, "Gah, Reaper flanking! Reaper flanking!" On the brightly-lit screen in front of her, a thin, armored man hopped around a black-clad man in a skull mask, tossing shuriken at the dark figure until he keeled over. "I got Reaper! How're we doing?"

"We're pushing! Can you flank them back?" A tinny voice emitted from the headset, "I've got graviton surge."

"I'm playing Genji! Of course I can flank," Isane scoffed. "Give me a few seconds… I'm in position."

"Great!" The voice stated, "I'm popping graviton! Our Sombra just hacked their Lucio! Hit them now!"

A pulsing ball of energy appeared in the middle of the enemy team, pulling them together, and Isane sent her avatar leaping toward the vulnerable group. Then, she pressed 'Q'.

"RYUJIN NO KEN WO KURAE!"

* * *

"Sensei?" Kurosaki Ichigo poked me in the back, "What are you doing? Shouldn't we be practicing?"

"Ten minutes," I waved distractedly at him with my left hand, "I'm wiping noobs. Well, LT4th and her sweet Genji plays are wiping noobs, but I got the assist. Suck hack, Lucio, you spoony bard! Who's meta now?"

"Come on! You're playing video games? We've only got weeks, and I have no idea how to use my shikai!" Ichigo whined, "And isn't your real life more exciting than that game anyway?"

"You are way too serious. You'll burn yourself out if all you do is fight," I informed him, "Overtrain and you'll do something permanent to yourself before you even reach Soul Society. Do more footwork with your shikai active to get used to the balance if you can't sit still. I'll be with you in a second."

"I hate footwork drills," Ichigo grumbled, but he walked a few yards away and drew his sword, "Alright, let's do this. Cover the stars, Zangetsu!" The sword shivered in its partner's hands, and then shifted. The blade grew shorter as the hilt shot out, leaving Ichigo holding a long polearm made of dark metal. The head of the weapon boasted a wide, wickedly curved blade, dulled just enough to break bones rather than dismember people. Which a naginata was quite capable of doing even without the extra-heavy blade on the end. To balance the thick blade, a big ball of steel sat on the butt of the weapon, keeping it feeling light and maneuverable despite the weight. A large portion of the square haft was covered in white, cloth wrappings for a firmer grip.

Still grumbling, Ichigo took up the stance I showed him earlier and began walking backwards, forwards, sideways, and in circles at different speeds. Footwork drills might be helpful, but that didn't make them any more engaging. He still needed them, and he didn't have a watch, so I stretched it out to half an hour. Just before he got too frustrated and bored to be productive, I shut down my holo-screen and ambled over.

"It probably doesn't seem this way right now, since you gotta train a whole new weapon," I stated, "But it's actually an incredible stroke of fortune that your shikai's a naginata. Even if it's a traditionally girly weapon, ya dork. Get over it."

"But I'm losing so much progress!" Ichigo complained, "I'll never get as good with two weapons."

"Then only fight in shikai," I told him, "Do you know what happens when a warrior with a sword and a warrior with a polearm of approximately equal skill fight?"

"Whoever is better wins," Ichigo replied shortly, "Just like any fight unless luck gets involved."

"Wrong!" I corrected him cheerily, "Barring luck or terrain, the guy with the polearm will win. Every. Single. Time. Why will he always win?"

Ichigo considered the differences between his sealed weapon and shikai, "Um, I can hit harder because I've got a bigger handle to lever with?"

"Nope."

"It's easier to use both hands on a spear?"

"Also wrong."

"My naginata is longer than a sword?"

"Ding-ding-ding! We've got a winner, folks!" I grinned at him, "A sword's a fantastic sidearm. It's very portable, easy to take care of, useful in all terrains… But it was never a primary weapon for anybody who could get themselves a bow or a polearm. Your job as a future polearm specialist is to use and abuse tactical space. See, you now fight your best from farther away than any sword expert can even touch you. In order to hurt you, they have to pass through that zone of danger, and if they do all you need to do is seal your sword or choke up and keep fighting until you can get some distance to start the dance all over again."

"And if they can't break through, I can just beat them down," Ichigo realized, "So how do I use this thing?"

"Well, you got lucky again because you have a sword on a stick instead of a spear or an axe or something," I clapped him across the back, "Most of the moves transfer over somewhat. Obviously you hold the naginata differently, and you'll need to master smaller movements because a tiny haft shift can move the blade of a polearm quite a bit. In terms of the kinds of moves you use, though, it's very similar." I slid my trusty arming sword from its sheath, "This is the sort of thing you learn by doing, I think. I'll correct any bad habits as they arise. Hey, Urahara! You wanna help me whale on Ichigo for a while? He could use a Soul Reaper to fight!"

* * *

"Well, slag me!" I straightened my nose with a faint 'crack' of shifting bits, and let Orihime cover it in her healing dome. "Not half bad, Tatsuki. You kept your sonic fist and speed boost up for the entire fight, and you even slipped a punch through." I let her do it, of course, but if you don't show the kids they're improving they'll get all wangsty, and then the next thing you know they've all become Uchihas. Nobody wants Uchihas. Except Orochimaru, but he doesn't get to count.

From her position face-down on the floor, Tatsuki mumbled something unintelligible. "I think my bruises have bruises," she observed, assuming the position known as 'I'm too tough to admit I don't want to be seated'. "But I did it! You owe me a new move, sensei!"

"So I do. Any preferences?"

"Your reflexes are too good to be human," The martial artist stated bluntly. Well, she's not wrong. "If I had those with my speed boost… Teach me how to do that!" Well, scrap.

My reflexes come from seeing events a few seconds before they happen. It's not exactly difficult to do. The trick is not looking farther than a few seconds. It'll drive you crazy in minutes, and you practically never get useful information for your trouble. Too many variables. And even if you do get something useful, you probably won't be able to use it, because you'll be crazy! Chronomancy, or time magic, is a very slippery slope, and one I wish I'd never bothered with. There's much safer ways to gain power, like necromancy! Or stealing a nuke.

Actually, I should probably look into some ways to even the playing field between myself and the higher ranked Soul Reapers…

Bad Zoe! Bad! When you play Global Thermonuclear War, the only winners are the radroaches!

"I'm not going to teach you my technique," I informed Tatsuki, "It's way too dangerous to use."

"I can handle it!" She insisted.

"It's not a matter of if you could master it, kid," I explained. Gotta make sure she knows why it's a terrible idea to mess with this stuff. "I'm not improving my reflexes. I can see things a few seconds before they happen. Which is incredibly useful, don't get me wrong. But if you go any farther than that, well, the human brain isn't meant to see all possible futures at once. Slip up for even a fraction of a second, and it'll start driving you insane… And it'll be that much harder to keep your focus from then on."

"Wait, what?"

"You didn't think I started out this slagging crazy, did you?"

"So, are there any techniques you can teach me to help keep up?" That's a very good question.

"In theory, aeromancers, air mages, can increase their reaction time. It's a fairly advanced spell," I shared, "But you'll probably just take that as a challenge."

"Hell yes! Teach me teach me teach me."

* * *

"Uh, good hustle, Chad?"

"…"

"Your accuracy has improved a lot?"

"…"

"Good gods, I hate engaging with strong silent types," I indulged in a brief face-palm, before heading toward Orihime. "Good talk, big guy. Good talk."

* * *

"So. How've things been going with you, kid?"

"They've been GREAT! Mr. Tessai is so helpful! I can keep my shield up for ten minutes now!"

"Huh. Neat."

"And I can heal people without getting suuuper tired and dizzy now, and Tsubaki can cut off hands, which isn't really very nice. But he can also cut through swords, which is kinda nicer even if swords are probably expensive and I think Soul Reaper swords might be alive so… Did you know that the more I use my powers the stronger and easier they get? I don't need to shout my move names anymore!"

"You probably didn't before."

"I mean, that's kinda disappointing because Goku shouts his move names and everybody knows he's like the coolest guy ever and we're kinda in a shounen anime so I was hoping… But Mr. Tessai and you both say I shouldn't tell people what I'm going to do to them in a fight, and I guess you both couldn't be wrong. Ooooh, what if I shout the names for the wrong move? And I'm all like 'Brave Sword Slash!', and then I punch them in the face!" The busty brunette made some enthusiastic flailing motions with… surprisingly excellent form. Huh. Okay. Continue.

"But then they still know something's coming unless sometimes I just run away and go get pickles and bean sprouts and cheese and peanut butter sandwiches for everybody. They'll never see that coming. And they'll be all like 'grrr' and I'll be all like 'Sandwich!' and they'll probably start barfing because lots and lots of people are allergic to my cooking, which is weird, because most of my dishes don't share ingredients, and I always wash my pans really well…"

* * *

After a few days with my students, it was definitely a relief to go pound on metal things over a sweltering forge. Nothing works out annoyance like beating stuff with a hammer. And if beating stuff with a hammer will keep my disciples alive? Bonus!

* * *

 **A.N. For those of you who are curious, Ichigo's new shikai looks like the original Zangetsu, with a slightly smaller blade, mounted on the end of a long pole. It's the same zanpakuto, just expressed a little differently.**


	8. Do the Odysseus

"Hey there, cue ball, how's life?" My prosthetic arm, cold unmoving metal, snaked around the Soul Reaper's neck, forcing him into a submission hold as I divested him of his weapon. "Talk, and I'll definitely probably leave you with your pants when I dump your unconscious body somewhere."

"You think you can get me to talk, little girl?" Bald guy said confidently, "I'm eleventh division! We're not snitches, and we're certainly more than a match for a baby ryoka like you. Hnng!" My captive flexed rather impressively, assuming he was trying to show off his biceps. It didn't actually budge my arm. Indestructible metal and hydraulics beats non-officer Soul Reaper who has no leverage. And apparently an Official MGSV Corrugated Stealth Cube beats the situational awareness of everyone I've run into so far in Soul Society. Eleventh division, I am so disappoint. And those other Soul Reapers who didn't spot me. "Er, out of idle curiosity, what do you want to know?" He asked after failing to free himself.

"I'm looking for a Soul Reaper name 'a Kuchiki Rukia," I told him, "Point me at her, and you'll never see me again. Not that you saw me the first time."

"I'm not telling an honorless, cowardly sneak thief like you anything!" Cue ball said, "When my comrades find you you'll wish I'd killed you myself!"

"You say that, but I've got you by the neck and you're like the twentieth eleventh division guy I've nailed like this," I pointed out reasonably, squeezing harder and fingering some pressure points to put him out. "But maybe you have a point. As fun as cheap shotting you morons is, it isn't very productive…"

After burning cue ball's pants, and dumping him in a ditch somewhere, covered in sake from the bottle he had on him, I checked in with my allies, and set up my Corrugated Stealth Cube at another intersection. This time I didn't grab the first Soul Reaper to walk past. See? I can restraint when I want to restraint. I got us into the Seireitei nice and subtle, after all. Well, for a certain value of the word subtle.

The entire Seireitei is a fortress surrounded by this neat stuff called "Sekkiseki" that makes spiritual entities disintegrate on contact. It's the perfect defense against nearly anything in Soul Society, since spirit powers can't affect it, and all people are made of spirit energy here. But what it doesn't do is stop conventional weapons any better than a normal rock. I guess since the Soul Reapers stopped their weapons innovations at 'sword', it never occurred to them that there could be conventional weapons strong enough to bust through eight feet of solid rock. My C4A block disproved that theory rather handily. Rock's tough, but not enough to handle a shaped charge made with positron-doped high explosives. Bit of a shame to spend that bit of heavy ordinance so early in the mission, but it was that or try something really crazy, presumably.

Infiltration complete, we holed the students up in one of Yoruichi's safe rooms while she and I, the only even vaguely stealth-capable people we've got, tried to figure out where Rukia is. Corrugated Stealth Cube FTW! It never fails. And speaking of which, here comes somebody wimpy looking! I didn't know they even had Soul Reaper janitors. Figured they had peons for that. Well, people say mission-critical things around janitors all the time, and fear is an excellent motivator. I inched my Corrugated Stealth Cube up behind the poor bastard as he started sweeping litter into a dustpan. Wonder of wonders, the guy actually noticed me and whirled around, broom thrust between me and him like a talisman. He wasn't even armed, but he saw me coming, so he's already leagues more dangerous than these 11th division clowns. That deserves at least a little respect, so I doffed my Corrugated Stealth Cube, drew my chainsaw bayonet (but didn't turn it on, of course. You can't capture people with a chainsaw bayonet if you turn it on.). "Hello," I told him, grinning my psycho slasher grin #3.1415927. "My name is Inigo Montoya. You kill my sister's bestie's cousin's mafia don's father. Prepare to die." Aaand he passed out. Such a pity; he was doing so well!

Beggars can't be choosers, I suppose. I zip-tied his ankles and wrists together, frisked him for weapons (nothing), and dragged him back to our temporary base. Crazy cat lady was impressed by my 1337 5734l7h 5k1ll5. Especially once I demonstrated my technique. The base version Corrugated Stealth Cube rarely fails, and I have the MGSV commemorative edition! I'm very proud of it.

"…So you're telling me you captured twenty eleventh division combat specialists, interrogated them, and dumped their unconscious bodies, sans pants, in ditches all over the western quarter of the Seireitei, by hiding under a _cardboard box_. And the only person to even suspect something was wrong is this 4th division janitor, who you intimidated until he passed out, restrained, and dragged here, still avoiding notice with your _cardboard box_ ," Yoruichi seemed like she might be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. That sounds fun. I should encourage this, "And you did all this while wearing full plate armor that clanks like a bag of coins and hisses like a faulty radiator when you move. Every time I hear you've done something you scare me a little more, and it's entirely because I can't for the life of me figure out how you get away with all this _bullshit_."

"Some people in Captain Coat Thingies even passed me by. This big, beefy dude with an eye patch, and this skinny girl who was too busy yelling at a fat dude to pay attention to her surroundings," I gleefully dumped salt on Yoruichi's wounds, "The Corrugated Stealth Cube is my best stealth tool."

"…I really wish you were lying," Yoruichi groaned, "But I can absolutely see Kenpachi Zaraki and Soi Fon doing that. Zaraki has no skills outside of melee combat and throwing heavy objects, and Soi Fon… She's got a real temper."

"Yah. So," I turned back to our unfortunate captive, "How much are we gonna have to rough you up before you spill the beans, 4th division guy?"

"Can you not and say you did?" The peon offers. Well, that's no fun.

"If you squeal I promise to save your beating for the next guy," I countered cheerily. "Where's Rukia Kuchiki? Tell me everything you know about where she's being captured. And if you try to lie? You won't succeed, but…" I trailed off meaningfully, and revved my chainsaw bayonet.

"She's in the Senzaikyu! It- it's a prison next to Sokyoku Hill, where the executions take place! I can take you there!" The janitor babbles, "Please, please, please don't stick that in me!"

With a shrug, I turned the chainsaw bayonet off and stowed it in the concealed compartment in my left arm again. "Well, you're awfully helpful all of a sudden. The other twenty guys I tried got all macho stupid over it. You 4th division guys less courageous? Or just smarter?"

"I- I know Rukia, a little," Says the peon morosely, staring at his feet, "Before she was sent to the Senzaikyu, she was in the 5th division's cells. It was my job to clean the cell block, and she would talk to me sometimes. She was kind, even though she was going to be executed. Not a lot of people are kind to members of the 4th division. Or even remember we exist, except our Captain. You sound like you want to rescue her, and I don't think she deserves to die. Also, you're a really, really scary lady. Almost as scary as our Captain." Oh, only almost as scary?

"Challenge accepted!" I informed him, "Nobody gets to be a scarier lady than me!" For some reason, he went kinda green when he heard that. "So, kid, you got a name? It'll be kinda awkward if I just have to call you peon this whole time."

"I- I'm Yamada Hanataro. 4th division's Seventh Seat," This janitor's an _officer_? What the hells? I knew the Court Guard Companies were one of the most pathetic military organizations I'd ever seen, in terms of discipline and vigilance at least, but this is just hilariously bad. …I think I might see some opportunities here. "Please take care of me."

"Stick with me, kid, and you're gonna go far. Now, show us this secret passage of yours."

* * *

"Huh. That's funny," Captain Soi Fon of the Second Division abruptly reversed course the moment she heard her subordinate speak. In her experience, 'that's funny' frequently was a prelude to catastrophe.

"What is so funny, exactly?" The diminuitive captain sent the Soul Reaper in question hopping with an icy glare.

"Well, the security cameras in the Senzaikyu seem to be malfunctioning, Captain," The security guard reported, gesturing to a bank of camera feeds he was watching. "But only on the east side. It's very odd. You'd think a short would have taken 'em all out at once, but it's only on that one approach. There goes another, see?" He pointed to a screen that had filled with static as they watched. "And another… And another… We should probably get some 4th division guy out there for maintenance."

"…I am surrounded by idiots," Soi Fon muttered, grinding her teeth. She was almost certain Ms. Yoruichi never had to deal with this level of incompetence. "Omaeda! Follow! We're investigating."

"An electrical failure?" The pudgy man scoffed, "Isn't that beneath us?"

"Someone's destroying the cameras to cover their approach you fools!" Soi Fon exclaimed, "We're stopping a prison break! Move it! Now!"

The Captain of Soul Society's special forces spent the entire run to the prison grinding her teeth in irritation, to the time of her lieutenant's huffing and puffing. She expected the rank and file to be less capable than their superiors, but this was ridiculous. As soon as the current situation was resolved, she decided, she was going to postpone everything else to whip her division back into shape.

Of course, for one of the fastest Captains of all the Senzaikyu wasn't even a minute away, and her lieutenant was at least able to keep pace. They swiftly located the infiltrators by the sunlight glinting off their truly immense amount of jewelry (how the hell had they snuck this far in while being so shiny?) and dropped in to block the path. It wasn't exactly Second Division standard operating procedure, but after seeing the state she'd allowed her division to get into, Soi Fon really, _really_ wanted to hit someone.

The opposition was… strange, to say the least. A tall youth dressed entirely in gleaming, metal plates, with a naginata slung over his shoulder. A young and very busty woman wearing a dress, head-scarf, and leggings that shimmered metallic silver. A very muscular woman in what looked like a gi and head-scarf made of the same dazzling fabric. A hulking man wearing so much blackened metal that everything about the person underneath his strange clothing was concealed, the right arm veined with faintly glowing red. A thin, spectacled boy wearing the dorkiest clothes she'd ever seen, of ordinary cloth. A Soul Reaper wearing a 4th division insignia and carrying a broom for some reason. _Shihoin Yoruichi what the heck was Ms. Yoruichi doing here?_ And a stocky, red-haired woman wearing dull, grey metal under a forest green cloak and carrying a European-style sword. Oh no…

"Omaeda, you will get as many captains as you can muster and send them here," Soi Fon informed her second in command in a carefully-controlled, even tone, "You will do so with all possible speed, because if I die before you get me backup my will ensures that Captain Unohana will put you on a diet for the rest of your life." The heavyset man vanished like smoke in the breeze, but Soi Fon never let her eyes waver from the opposition as she drew her Zanpakuto and immediately released it. "Sting all enemies to death, Suzumibachi!" The familiar, buzzing presence of her sword's spirit filled her as the Shikai's gauntlet and blade wrapped around her forearm. Then, the petite Captain desperately dashed into Shunpo.

She knew she had gotten much faster since Yoruichi had left (deal with it later, much, much later!). Captain Kuchiki hadn't mentioned the red-head who'd so easily defeated him being especially fast, and Suzumibachi was more than sharp enough to scratch even Kenpachi Zaraki himself. A scratch was all she needed, and if she could strike fast enough she could take the biggest threat out right now! Dodge the clumsy swing from polearm guy, roll under the absurdly fast kido from the girl in the gi, feint past Yoruichi's desperate grab and- 'Tink-tink!'

Yoruichi and Soi Fon both stopped to stare at the red-head's breast, where Suzumibachi had completely failed to so much as scuff the surface of the dark metal. Before she could pull back, a metal-gloved hand clamped over her wrist like vise, squeezing so tightly she could feel her bones grinding together. "You don't hit nearly as hard as Captain Ice Princess," The metal-clad woman informed Soi Fon, grinning wickedly as she drew something from a holster on her right thigh and flicked a switch on it with her thumb. "Dakka dakka dakka! Ahahahahahaha!" She leveled the strange device at the struggling captain's face, and pulled a lever near the handle.

'BABABABABABABABA!' A constant, rolling stream of thunderclaps barraged Soi Fon's senses, carefully trained to pick up the slightest noise on a stealth mission and now turned against her by the horrible noise. Even as her eardrums rang, a sensation like a swarm of angry hornets tore across her face and chest, blackening her eyes and raising welts all across her face, throat, and breasts. Containing the urge to scream, because getting hit by that inside her mouth would certainly be far worse, Soi Fon hurled herself backwards, heedless of her thumb breaking with a tiny 'crack!' as she ripped herself from her opponent's grasp.

"Bakudo 39: Enkosen!" Soi Fon screamed, curling up behind the kido shield her spell conjured as the attacks continued to slam into it. The barrage continued for a few seconds more, but thankfully it seemed the weapon was too weak to penetrate her protective spell even without a full incantation. Then a sparking, metal object shaped vaguely like a blade-less sword sailed over the shield and exploded with electricity. The petite Captain barely managed to keep herself behind her shield as her limbs spasmed, and a good thing too since a gigantic energy blast and a barrage of glowing arrows bracketed her defense the moment it went off.

That was when the blade of the red haired boy's naginata put a deep notch into the kido shield with a quiet fizzing sound. Intending to use the boy as cover, Soi Fon abandoned her failing defense and rose up, Suzumibachi at the ready. Yoruichi intercepted her with a kick to the face, and she flew backward, landing next to another of those hilt-shaped kido foci, which went off immediately. This one was at least twice as strong as the first, and she would have screamed if her jaw hadn't locked shut from the shock. Instead, she simply thrashed for a few seconds, before everything went black.


	9. Lutefisk for the Lutefisk God

'KaBOOM!' Kuchiki Rukia started as several chunks of rock and robed security guards flew across the room in front of her cell. Breaching charges. What can't they do? "Stop in the name of the AUGH!" Someone she didn't recognize yelled, before another guard was hurled over to join his fellows. Then came the sound of clanking footsteps, growing closer with measured urgency until...

"Ichigo?! Wha- What are you doing here?" He looked a lot spiffier and better protected in the heavy plate I'd made for him, but she recognized him anyway. Having the visor up probably helped.

"Rescuing you, duh," Ichigo informed her, chopping the cell bars down with a single swing of his blade, "Now come on, we gotta get out of here before more guards or that fat Second Division guy show up."

"How are you even here? Why are you here? Are you insane?" Rukia squawked, "You're no match for a captain! You'll be killed!"

"We took one out already," Ichigo rebutted, grabbing her and slinging her over his shoulder despite her protests, "I'm rescuing you whether you like it or not! So thank me and be grateful, or we'll mummify you in duct tape and zip ties like Captain Soi Fon over there and drag you free, damn it!" Ichigo nodded at a duct tape mummy slung over a gigantic man in black metal clothes' shoulder, which twitched occasionally in his grasp.

"Wait, we? And who's that?" Rukia asked, struggling weakly against her rescuer's iron grip.

"Oh, that's Chad. From the parakeet thing, remember? He got super powers from being near me or something," Ichigo informed her, "So did Orihime, so she came. Tatsuki didn't though, so Zoe Walker taught her how to do magic kung fu. They're here too, and so's Ishida, Ms. Yoruichi, and this 4th division guy Hanataro we sorta kidnapped and then he volunteered to help us. I'm not about to let a friend hang out to dry, and neither are they."

"That's- I- Fine!" Rukia exclaimed, going limp in his arms, "Do whatever you want, you inconsiderate dolt! What kind of rescue doesn't consider the rescuee's wishes?"

The kind where the rescuee has Stockholm Syndrome," I diagnosed, "So sit still and shut up. You'll thank us later." We rejoined the group, and headed out over the bridge back to the main Seiteirei, but it didn't take long before things went to Kigal. I'd thought things were going a bit too well.

"Hold up!" Yoruichi called, "I sense three massive sources of reiatsu headed this way! They're… captains! And one lieutenant with them! We're not going to be able to evade them out in the open like this! Get ready to fight!" Three captains? When one took a full clip of HEAP ammo to the face like it was nothing? Do. Not. Want.

The three captains hit the bridge together, with fat 2nd Division guy lagging behind. A short kid with silver hair and a moderately oversized daikatana slung over his back, a dude almost as big as Chad with a bucket on his head, and… oh, scrap me. "Oh, this is bad, this is very, very bad," I muttered unhappily, causing everyone to look at me with some alarm. How can they not recognize that guy?! Are y'all blind all of a sudden? "Orochimaru!" I most definitely did not scream like a little girl, pointing a shaking finger at the oily-looking bastard with the short sword and the pedo grin. "What the heck are you doing here? We don't have any small children with freaky eyes for you to creep on! Go away! You're not allowed to be here!" For a few heartbeats there was nothing but frozen silence.

"Uh, what?" Orochimaru had the best 'stunned disbelief' face I've ever seen, but he can't fool me. "I'm Ichimaru Gin, Third Company Captain. And I do _not_ creep on small children! Why the heck would you think that?" Uh, isn't it obvious? Orochimaru?

"Kill it!" I screamed, going for my grenades, "Kill it with fire before it kills us all!" I had three frags in the air sans pin and my machine gun in my hands by the time anyone else got around to doing stuff. Screw my SMG. Soi Fon tanked it like a boss; I am not taking any chances with freaking Orochimaru. He dodged the frags with shunpo, but the hail of bullets caught him by surprise, and the high caliber, diamond-jacketed bullets did what my SMG's lighter shot couldn't and put some gouges into his flesh as he ducked for cover. If he wasn't Orochimaru, I'd be happy with the chip damage; the slimy void sucker regenerates.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Yoruichi go for bucket head while the kids swarmed towards fat guy and short guy. Meanwhile, Ishida made a break for it with Hanataro, Rukia, and our prisoner. But I didn't have attention to spare for that, because freaking Orochimaru. Speaking of which, was he actually trying to negotiate? "Who the hell even are you?" He yelled over his cover, "I mean, I get wanting to kill me on sight. Loads o' people do. But I swear I have never seen you before in my life! What the hell?"

"Your body-snatching days are over, pedo-snake!" I informed him as I activated my armor's full support systems and hosed his cover down with my flamethrower, "I'll kill you until you're dead! You'll never take Rukia's body!" She looks more than enough like an Uchiha to be in critical danger, here.

"What- You think- I don't want- What did you just call me?!" Orochimaru sputtered, clearly put off-kilter by me seeing through his cunning disguise. "Screw it, Imma just kill you. This is so not worth it," The disguised ninja grumbled as he flash stepped to a piece of cover that wasn't on fire, which I promptly started blasting away at. Screw ammo conservation, I'm fighting Orochimaru. "Kill her," He hissed, "Shinso!"

Sucks to be you, Orochimaru. I already know you have the Kusanagi, that extendable, poisoned, vorpal sword of overpoweredness. Also, I can see the future. I parried it with ease, grabbed it, and put more mana than I can usually afford to spend on a single spell into heating it white-hot. In addition to hopefully totally wrecking the blade's temper forever, that got him to drop the sword with a pained yell and set his cover on fire. Again. So I added more fire, since I brought thirty spare tanks for my prosthetic arm's wrist flamethrower because reasons.

The pedo-snake rolled out of cover swearing a blue streak, his robes smoldering, and dropped behind one of those kido shields Soi Fon used when I opened fire again. My heavier ammo immediately started chewing it up, so he popped a smoke grenade and shunpoed in close. Because time magic is the most unfair advantage ever, I managed to get a few bullets into him as he approached before he ripped the strap off my big gun, yanked it out of my hands, and threw it aside. I took advantage of his hands being occupied with that to knife him between the ribs and got primed for him to shed his skin and come at me again. For some reason he didn't.

Instead, looking very sorry for himself, he hauled off and punched me in the face. Halley's automatic safety protocols closed my faceplate before it landed (she definitely needs a raise), and a sucking chest wound doesn't exactly help with upper body strength, but he still hit hard enough to ring my bells pretty good. I popped my prosthetic's knuckle blades and my right hand's gauntlet taser, and we started going at it hammer and tongs. Even with my armor and all his freaking wounds, he still managed to leave a deep bruise with every hit, and keep me from sticking something pointy in him again. But the taser surprised him the first time, and as tough and skilled as he was clearly was I had the better kung fu. It didn't take me too long to get a grip on his arms and pop the rest of my taser's charge. While he was shrugging that off, I went for the throat. Orochimaru was just not living up to his own hype.

"Shinso!" He shouted. I had just enough time to realize what he was planning, before the freaking Kusanagi shot its blade out, and slammed into my breastplate. I totally forgot he could control it without touching it. Also ow. It didn't cut through, but it kept extending, lodged in the wall he'd originally hid behind, until the pommel caught on something and it sent me flying backwards. The bastard played me! And I was too focused on sticking him fulla holes to stop it. Limping noticeably, Orochimaru staggered over to his sword, yanked it out of the wall, and shunpoed away. Blast it! Now we gotta fight him again later!

But on the positive side, I came out of a fight with Orochimaru without total mana depletion or any serious wounds. In fact, looks like my tanks are half full and I've still got most of my consumables. So I grabbed my big gun and scaled a nearby building to get a good vantage point on the other fights.

Yoruichi was doing fine. The big guy was incredibly strong and pretty fast, but she ran circles around him. For every blow he whiffed he was taking like five from her. Not worried about that.

The second division toady wasn't doing so great either. Tatsuki had him disarmed and pinned. Looked like she dislocated both his arms too. He's not going anywhere.

And the rest of them, Ichigo, Orihime, and Chad, were kiting daikatana kid like bosses. He was clearly getting steaming mad, but Ichigo had a lot of reach on him, his sword didn't seem to be scratching Chad's armor and the huge teen had like three hundred pounds on him, and Orihime was just camping out of the little guy's reach and harassing him with her faeries. As I watched he screamed some of the weaboo scrap dudes around here seem to before they unleash their powers, and it gave Orihime all the warning she needed to put a shield and block it. While he was concentrating on that, Chad and Ichigo got through his guard and laid him flat. I'm so proud.

But not proud enough to forgo shooting a supernaturally powerful wizard child in the back! I painted him with my infrared targeting laser, and drew a bead on the poor void sucker's center of mass and-

Oh slag-

The sudden, overwhelming sense of bloodlust, coupled with a vision of being converted to chunky salsa in a mostly intact can that probably only I saw, sent me rolling to the side just ahead by a whistling blur of death. All the kids, including the captain kid, staggered under the pressure. Yoruichi and bucket head acted unaffected, though they had to have felt it.

"Well, well, guess I got lucky! You're the one Captain Kuchiki said was the strongest!" I looked toward the dude who'd just almost gotten very lucky indeed. But that only got me to a robed chest with a captain's jacket, so I looked up to see a gaunt, scarred face with an eyepatch, some spectacularly spiky hair, and an incongruously cute kid sitting on his shoulder. And his sword, a long, chipped thing, was so dull I was amazed it had cut so deeply into the roof. For an expert smith like me, it was painful to see. Some poor sap had put a lot of work into that thing, and he was treating it like a stick. "Funny. You don't feel nearly as strong as the lady with purple hair, or that kid with the polearm, but Kuchiki said you were good at hiding your power." The scarred captain considered me for a moment, "Tell ya what, I've been having too many easy fights lately. I'll give you one free shot, just to make things interesting." He pulled his robes open to display an expanse of scars and lean muscle, grinning excitedly, as the kid scampered off out of the line of fire. "Better make it count."

Free shot? Against someone who is very likely Kenpachi Zaraki, who Kisuke told us would kill us all with ease? Yes, please. But how far does 'free shot' go?

…Not as far as I'd like. If he sees me setting up a big spell, he'll kill me. If I just go for a cut somewhere unpleasant, it'll wound him, and then he'll kill me. Best I can do with a sword strike is make him spend the rest of his life down a testicle. Anywhere else won't cut deep enough to make him even flinch. Bullets will barely scratch him. The anti-aircraft maser takes too long to set up; he'll assume it's a spell and kill me.

I need something quick, I need it to do a lot of damage, and I can't afford to spend too much on it because there's no way he's the last person I'll be fighting this month. Blood and scrap, I was really hoping to keep this as an ace in the hole.

"Free shot? I'll take it!" I declared, drawing my sword with my right hand. His eye immediately focused on that, and with only one he didn't have the field of view to notice the scroll I drew and unfurled with my left hand. Not until the kid gasped, and he refocused on the glowing runes pointed at his face. Too late to dodge.

This is unquestionably the most effective offensive spell I know. So powerful that I can't cast it cold. It takes a full week of painstaking preparation and tens of thousands of US dollars of rare ingredients to create a scroll for it, which can only be used once. Believe me, if I could afford stockpile these I would, no questions asked. Instead, I only have the one scroll, and it'll take me at least five jobs just to replace.

Because this spell is the most powerful attack a ferromancer can learn. Magnetism, metal shaping, even lightning bolts are all simple and easy in comparison. This spell, for a few seconds, negates all effects of electromagnetism in the target's body. Guess what molecular bonds are made of?

So fittingly, this spell is called "Disintegrate!" Please work, please work, please work… Oh, thank the gods. The captain froze, fine powder starting to flake off his body in the light breeze. "Sorry, kid," I told his sidekick, who was staring at me in open-mouthed shock. Not a huge fan of killing a kid's best friend in front of them, but it was me or him, "For what it's worth, it's nothing personal. But I ain't dying- Oh, you have got to be kidding me!"

He wasn't dead. I hit him with Disintegrate and he wasn't dead! Instead, his dissipating form started condensing. That was when something in his eyepatch made a very good try at eating his face and everything else. Roaring with rage and presumably pain, the captain tore his patch off and threw it aside before collapsing to one knee, breathing and bleeding heavily.

All his old scars had opened like they were fresh wounds, and a gaping, bleeding hole sat where his patch had apparently covered a perfectly good eye for some reason. Well, he's going to have an actual reason to wear one now. His skin had turned pale and chalky, and his hands shook, but he wasn't freaking done! "Whadya do to me, you bitch?" He slurred at me, strength of will and weakness of the body clearly at a stalemate.

"That's not fair!" I assure you I did _not_ whine, "Do you have any idea how hard it is to make those? Slag it, that was supposed to be my trump card for when Captain Ice Princess Kuchiki came for me. And you took it! You took a Disintegrate to the face and you're still standing! I come out of every fight I take here knowing one wrong step and I'd have been smeared all over the walls and you blocked a _Disintegrate_ with your _face_! I slagging _HATE THIS PLACE_!" By the end, I may or may not have been screaming hysterical rage and frustration to the heavens.

"You used kido on me," Zaraki groaned, "Fuck that hurt. You cowardly bitch! That's not how you fight fun! I'm gonna kill you for that!" And he rose to his feet, ignoring how he'd lost enough blood already to kill a similarly-sized human, and charged at me again. A lot slower than when he almost turned me into spam, at least.

This time, I was able to meet his blade with a solid parry and riposte he avoided with a staggering sidestep. He was stronger than me, but not so strong that I couldn't parry his swings. He was faster than me, but not so fast that I couldn't follow his movements. He certainly had better endurance than me, but wasn't about to outlast me after keeping himself from being disintegrated and then eaten by his eye patch through sheer force of will.

Why the heck was he wearing a carnivorous eyepatch anyway?

So when he launched a high cut, I caught it, half-sworded, stepped inside his reach, and whacked him in the face with my pommel. He responded with a punch from the left that I fielded, forcing me back into fencing distance. I feinted low, he blocked high, and our blades met again with a ringing crash, my fine, enchanted bronze and steel taking a chip out of his poorly cared-for weapon.

As we circled each other, probing for openings in the other warrior's guard, I couldn't help but let a huge grin steal across my face. For the first time since I'd gotten involved in this Soul Reaper slag, I wasn't fighting some crazy, invisible monster. I wasn't fighting a nigh-indestructible superhuman with nothing more than a massive advantage in brains and technology. Just me, the other guy, and two pointy pieces of steel between us. Even if I had to nail him with a Disintegrate and then watch something take a bite out of his face to make it a fair fight. Gods above, I'd missed this.

I had skill and experience, but he had speed and strength even after the near-death experience, and a ton of natural talent for combat. Seriously, is there something in the water around here? First Ichigo, and now this guy. He wasn't coming up with the ideal responses to my well-practiced techniques, but he was figuring out good enough responses in the moment. Every feint, every beat, every combination, was clearly taking him by surprise but not quite enough to land a decisive hit. He picked up more scratches, I picked up more bruises, he started trying to ape some of my simpler techniques, and slowly, a grin to match mine stole across his face.

"Fuck, girl, you're way better than I was expecting some pansy-ass kido adept to be," Zaraki panted, as we both stepped back in the mutual, unspoken agreement that neither of us was getting very far by pounding sharp, pointy things into each other. And maybe that the blood loss was finally getting to him, after ten solid minutes of heavy combat. Seriously, I hate Soul Reapers so much. "Why did you have to lead with some shitty spell?"

"We both know how this would've gone down if I hadn't," I pointed out, "I could practice for thousands of years more, and it wouldn't do scrap against you. Healthy, you're too fast, too strong, and too tough. I could barely have cut you."

"Even with that eyepatch I asked the science geeks to cook up eating my spirit energy, I'm just too strong, huh?" The captain lamented, "Feels like I never get a good fight. The skilled ones aren't strong enough to fight me, and the strong ones never bothered getting good. Hell, I never really bothered getting very good. Only took one day of lessons in my life." He sunk to his knees, sword clattering to the ground beside him. "Learned more about how to fight in ten minutes with you than that day and hundreds of years as a captain."

"That's usually what happens when you have an overwhelming physical advantage on pretty much everybody," I observed, cleaning my sword on his discarded captain's coat since the fighting seemed over. Finally. "It's lonely at the top, Kenpachi Zaraki. I'd say I'll be seeing you again, all ominous and cool, but we both know if we meet again I'll almost certainly die on your sword. But, I also promised some sketchy dude in a candy shop that I wouldn't kill captains that weren't on his naughty list if I could spare them without dying, and surprisingly you ain't on that list. So goodbye, and may you need a very long hospital visit to recover from that."

I turned around and started walking away, but didn't sheathe my sword until I heard the thump of his body hitting the ground. "Fuck," he muttered as I turned the corner, almost out of hearing range, "I need more fights like that…" So. Much. Nope.

By the time I got back to the group, Ichigo and friends had finished their fights. Daikatana kid had withdrawn after coating the area with bloody snow, bucket head had been dumped in the cell next to Rukia's and fat guy was in no condition to protest. So we headed for our fallback point, inside a mostly empty storehouse Hanataro assured me only a few Fourth Company janitor-doctors ever visited, and only because they swept it once a month. It had just been swept, and so was very safe. From there, we'd figure out how to bust out of the Seireitei.

But when we got there, all we found was a critically guilty-looking Hanataro, sporting a massive bruise, and Captain Duct Tape Mummy. Something went down. "What happened, kid?" I asked him, "I swear to the gods above and below we're not going to do something nasty to ya if we don't like the answer."

"We ran into somebody strong," Hanataro admitted, "Tetsuzaemon Iba, the lieutenant of Seventh Company, whose Captain fought you guys. He's really good in a fight, but kind of dumb. He's in the Seventh Company now, but he used to be in the Eleventh, and he acts like one of them, so he basically thinks I'm lower than dirt. I, uh, talked him into thinking I was only going along with you guys because I was scared and spineless. So he beat down Ishida and took him and Rukia. Told me to take the other prisoner, who he didn't recognize beyond her being a Soul Reaper, to the hospital. Slapped me across the face to try to get me to calm down when I stammered at him. But I brought her here instead? I'm going to be executed if you're caught anyway, so I guess…"

"He slapped another officer? Wow. Well, you did good, kid," I told the timid Soul Reaper. "Every Captain that stays out of play makes our odds of saving Rukia better. We've got Soi Fon, I'll be amazed if Kuchiki is on his feet this month even with magic, and I scrapped Zaraki pretty good. Chalk one up for preparation and bloody good luck, and thank the gods he's not that bright. I almost died like six times. Unfortunately, Orochimaru fell back the moment I got a solid hit on him, the slippery bastard. He'll definitely be up and kicking again soon."

"…You mean Gin?" Yoruichi quirked an eyebrow, "Eh, not important, and he is pretty snakey. Well, I beat Captain Komamura, but he's tough. He'll probably be in fighting shape within a few days. How'd you do against Captain Hitsugaya, kids?"

"The silver haired kid?" Tatsuki asked, "We got him pretty good, but he wasn't seriously hurt. Definitely pulled a tactical retreat. The moment he felt that scary, heavy reiatsu I'm assuming was from Zaraki vanished, he decided the odds weren't in his favor anymore."

"How the hell did you beat that guy, anyway?" Ichigo cut in. As much as I wish it wasn't, that's a fair question. "Hat and Clogs guy said the only thing we could do against him was run for our lives and hope he didn't feel motivated to chase us."

"Magical power equals preparation prior to casting plus effort at moment of casting," I informed Ichigo, "How much talent you have usually determines how much effort you can put in at the moment of casting your spell. I don't have a ton of talent. But I did hit him with a scroll that cost as much money to make as it would to buy a Mercedes, which took a week of eight hour workdays to complete. And even then, he would have crushed me if he hadn't been wearing a cursed eyepatch to make his fights last longer. It tried to eat him when I hit him with my disintegration spell. Between the two, he was weakened to the point where we were exactly evenly matched, except he was bleeding all over the place and I wasn't. From there, it was just a matter of fencing him until he passed out. No matter how tough he is, he'll need time and magic to recover from that."

"…What a monster," After working with me for this long, Ichigo had a pretty good idea of what my spellwork can do. That statement is very accurate. "So what now?"

"I'm not sure. Considering how incompetent Hanataro made Soul Society's security sound, I was banking on our smash and grab going off before their heavy hitters could respond. But Captain Duct Tape over there slowed us down just long enough for reinforcements to show up, and they were irritatingly competent," I grumbled, "Now security's going to be stepped up. They know our looks. There's no way they'll imprison her in a place we got her out of once before. We don't have inside intel to find her again. I've got a few ideas, but they're crazy even by my standards, so if anyone has a better plan, speak now."

"I shudder to think what you would consider a crazy plan," Yoruichi informed me dryly, "Your analysis is pretty accurate, though. We might need crazy. My original plan was to teach Ichigo how to unlock Bankai, the ultimate power of his sword, so we'd have another captain-level fighter on our side. Then we could hit Rukia's captors on her way to the execution stand if breaking her out of jail didn't work. But Ichigo's bargain with his Zanpakuto makes achieving Bankai ten times more difficult than it would have been. We've got more time than I was expecting to have, and Captain Komamura runs an honorable squad. There's no way Rukia is getting executed before her scheduled time, and I doubt he'd kill Ishida. But my plan is a lot less doable than I'd hoped." Yoruichi gestured for others to speak up, but Tatsuki, Orihime, Chad, and Ichigo didn't seem to have any brilliant plans either. "I'll still try to teach Ichigo Bankai, of course. But in the meantime, I think it might be time for crazy."

I grinned the grin of the differently sane, turned my holographic HUD on, and started scrolling through some lists. "How do you feel about corporate poaching on a massive scale, poking Genryusai Yamamoto with both a figurative and literal pointy stick, grand theft, grander arson, eighties magic, computer magic, and Bad Anime Reference Moves of Mass Destruction?"

"Are these references to bad anime, or bad references to anime?" Orihime asked me curiously.

"The second one," I replied cheerily, "Who wants to reference bad anime?"

"Oh. Then count me in!" She decided.

"You haven't lead us astray yet," Ichigo chimed in. "And your plans usually work. More or less." Chad nodded, but said nothing.

"You know I'm in," Tatsuki replied, "Any plan is better than no plan!"

"Screw it. But I get to use the poking stick," Yoruichi decided, "Let's hear this plan of yours." And so I told them.

There was horror. There was bemusement. There was laughter. There even were a few tweaks to make it even better. And then we got down to business. If this half-baked plot was going to have any chance succeeding, we had a lot of work to do.

* * *

"Sup, Captain Soi Fon?" The duct taped ninja glared at me impotently, which I ignored. Instead, I cast through the timelines for something I could say that would get her to listen to me. "Yoruichi didn't abandon you, ya know." Well, that did it. "She'd never admit it herself, 'cause she wants to look tough and all. But she left you behind to save your life. Sure, you're one scary lady now, but could you say that when she left?" The prisoner shook her head, looking rather small and confused. "Yeah, there's some scary people after her. I don't know the details, but based on the way you two look at each other you were either banging or really good friends before she left Soul Society. All I'm saying is that if she comes in here," More like when, since that's part of the PLAN, "Give her a fair hearing. I don't think you want to pass this chance up."

* * *

"How exactly did you get this much sake anyway?" Ichigo paused to grab a bottle of high-proof alcohol, poke a rag into the top, and tape it securely in place before putting it with the rest of the finished ones. "I mean, it's good that you could, I guess, but where do you pick up this much booze on such short notice."

"W-well, I figured we wanted to cause as much chaos as possible," Hanataro explained, "So I may have raided Lieutenant Matsumoto and Third Seat Ikkaku's stashes. And dropped a Third Company insignia in Matsumoto's hiding place. They're going to be really angry. It couldn't hurt."

"Heh," The redhead chuckled, "Not bad. You know, my dad would flip if he knew I was making molotovs for some crazy lady. But at least it's for a good cause…"

* * *

How's this look, Tatsuki?" The karate expert paused to look at her fellow magic student's efforts.

"Not bad, Orihime. I'd say it's a little on the cute side, but we might be able to make that work even better than the original plan," Tatsuki smiled at Orihime, "Can you make them chibi? We need real outrage here. Might not bother all of them, but I bet a few chibi comics spray-painted on the walls would really piss off some of the more uptight Captains, like Stick-Up-His-Butt-Ice-Princess. Especially if they're starring in 'em. What do you think of mine?"

"It's very… blobby?"

"Maybe I should leave the street art to you, and focus on my room trashing spells," The martial artist sighed, "I know I can make a bigger mess that way, anyways. Maybe deliver some pamphlets on a gust of wind? It's worth trying."

* * *

Chad set the heavy barrel down in a corner of the safe house with a sigh of relief. Even for him, it hadn't been easy to haul here. He just hoped it would suffice. The teen wasn't sure exactly what lutefisk was supposed to be, only that it was fish somehow prepared in soap that people in Norway ate. It sounded crazy to him, but Orihime and Ichigo seemed to think it was real. When pressed, Zoe had admitted that anything technically edible yet really gross would suffice.

Hopefully, this barrel of expired natto would be a suitable substitute.

* * *

"Captain Aizen? Dead by a sword like mine?" I paused to spit beside me, "I don't buy it. Entirely aside from the fact that you've been with me this whole time, I don't think I could do that. Not fast, or easy, without making a big mess. And even then, best case scenario I can imagine, he might still have won. Somebody's faking his death, or trying to frame us."

"I'm not sure whether the frame job or the disappearing act makes me more nervous," Yoruichi informed me, "Yeah, it obviously wasn't you. But Aizen… He's a lot more dangerous than he acts. Neither of those options fills me with- get down!" We both ducked inside the kido-enhanced Corrugated Stealth Cube Yoruichi had set up, allowing a patrol to pass by none the wiser. Once they'd passed, we rolled out and got back to work. Yoruichi kept watch, while I put some carefully placed scratches into the street and walls, jamming iron filings inside to make sure they'd hold until we needed them. It was a long, exacting, and finicky job, especially since we had to do it by night while dodging guards, but the pay-off was almost certain to save our lives.

After all, the more prep work you put into magic, the stronger the spell can be…


	10. Honey and Vinegar

Captain Jushiro Ukitake of Thirteenth Division leaped from his bed, Zanpakuto at the ready, as instincts honed by centuries of combat and leadership screamed at him that someone dangerous was in his room. Yet, all he saw was an open window, flapping in the breeze, and a note left on his desk. Wary of an ambush or trap, the Soul Reaper retrieved the note, and scanned it quickly, mouth set in a grim line.

'Sup, Captain Fishman? I hear you care about your doodz. I also hear Rukia was one of your doodz. Unless you're an honorless scumbag, you should probably get some of your other doodz and get over to Fourth Division's headquarters. Or you can just leave us to wreak havoc unsupervised, and Rukia to die. Your call.' Wait a second, he'd seen this handwriting before.

…Yoruichi Shihoin? So it wasn't just a rumor that she'd come back with these marauding Ryoka. If she was backing them, then perhaps there was more here than meets the eye. Regardless, considering the chaos these people had left in their wake so far, letting them near the Fourth Division and the injured Soul Reapers inside seemed like a spectacularly terrible idea.

"Sentaro. Kiyone," The Captain called out to his most reliable officers… Well, for a certain value of the word. He at least knew they'd be in earshot. "Gather some men together. The Fourth Division may be under attack. We're going to reinforce it."

* * *

"C-Captain Kurotsuchi sir! I'm sorry to interrupt you, sir," A terrified Twelfth Division Soul Reaper informed his unstable captain, "But we need your help, sir! Someone blew up the specimen storage chambers! All the experiments have been let loose or turned on! And everything's on fire!"

"Blasted incompetents!" The clown-like captain burst from his private laboratory, grinding his teeth at the thought of time lost. "It can't possibly be that-"

It was that bad. Maybe worse, he reflected, as a horned hollow, trailing the remains of an IV stand behind it, crashed through the wall in front of him and fire greedily spread across a pile of research notes to his left. Furious almost beyond words, the captain came very close to charging out to track down whoever had perpetrated this heinous crime against scientific progress. But sadly, if he left there would be no one to keep the remains of his experiments from being destroyed as well. Nemu certainly wasn't good enough to pull it off, and she was leagues above any of the other pathetic slackers he employed.

"What are you imbeciles just standing around for?" He yelled at the nearest group, even as he headed for the hollow test subject, sword in hand. "Get water, use kido, and put these damn fires out! Do I have to think for you too?"

* * *

Toshiro Hitsugaya, Captain of Tenth Division, startled awake at his desk, and stared bemusedly at a paper airplane that someone had apparently bounced off his forehead. How they'd gotten the thing into his windowless office he wasn't sure, but couldn't help being a little impressed at the feat. And a bit grateful; he must have fallen asleep doing paperwork last night. Maybe staying up late to finish that wasn't the best choice.

Huh, had someone written a note on the paper missile?

'jajajajjajaja were in ur base, investing ur midics'. The crude note was accompanied by an equally crude drawing of a stick figure kicking another stick figure, this one covered in bandages and lying on the ground. Shit.

"Matsumoto, get a brute squad together!" Hitsugaya snarled, lunging for his Zanpakuto and leaping for the door. "I don't care! Those assholes who I fought a few days ago are besieging the Fourth Division!" He yelled, bulldozing over her protests. "We need to rescue them!"

* * *

Kaname Tosen staggered out of the Ninth Division barracks, many of his men behind him, the building shaking with the force of music blaring from within. "AND SHE'S BUYING A STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN!" Robert Plant's recorded voice sang out after them, at a volume that was painful for anyone. To Tosen, a blind man who relied heavily on his hearing? It was three times as bad.

"What weapon is this?" The captain moaned, relaxing slightly as the walls of the building muffled the blaring music somewhat.

"The only thing that can make noise this loud is the emergency broadcast system," His lieutenant, Shuhei Hisagi, reminded him, "And the only place it could have been taken from is where it's stored with the Fourth Division."

"So whoever did this to us may also be threatening our wounded," Tosen deduced, "Let us bring justice down upon them for these actions."

* * *

"Dear Captain Kyoraku, you may not have heard of me but I've heard of you. I'm about to humiliate the Captain-General in front of everyone important in Soul Society at the Fourth Company hospital. You wanna come and watch? My regards, Zoe Walker." The lieutenant of the Eighth Division, Ise Nanao, quirked a skeptical eyebrow as she read the short letter that had been mixed in with the morning paperwork. "Captain Kyoraku, this has got to be a hoax."

"I don't think it is," The captain muttered, an unusually serious expression stealing across his face. "I can feel old man Yama's spirit energy from here. He's keeping a lid on it for now, but he feels _pissed._ Somebody's poked a sleeping bear with a stick, and (sigh) I suppose I better go and do some damage control."

* * *

Fireworks lit up the dawn sky, their source impossible to determine, sending bright letters soaring over the Seireitei.

"hey ded catpn azien! i no ur still alliv. u suck at faking ur deth. come 2 Fourth Division so i can umiliated u moar."

"There's no way she could know that," Aizen murmured, staring out a window at the slowly fading letters, "She never saw the body, and my Perfect Hypnosis technique can't be fooled. But what if she does know? She could ruin all my plans if she isn't eliminated. There's almost no chance that she knows. But if she does, things could get interesting. …It's possible that I stepped out of my public persona too soon. I can't risk going out there yet. I'll have to hope Tosen and Gin can keep a handle on the situation for now…"

* * *

Captain Genryusai Yamamoto was furious. Someone had the guts, the sheer gall to sneak into his room, dye his beard pink, and only then wake him up by dumping an _entire barrel_ of expired natto over him before poking him in the forehead with a stick and running off. He couldn't help being slightly impressed that he hadn't caught up to whoever it was yet, but that didn't make him any less angry.

He had been made a mockery of. His division had been made a mockery of. Soul Society's rules and culture were being made a mockery of. Captains were dropping left and right to enemies they should be effortlessly crushing. The time for delegation was long past.

Someone was going to burn for this.

* * *

"Well. You all do not seem to be injured," Captain Retsu Unohana of Fourth Division observed, striding out of her division's headquarters at the front of a full company of healers. "I am not disappointed, but that is quite odd. The orders I received were very clear that a large group of casualties were inbound."

"Forged orders, I'm afraid. Terribly sorry about that, ma'am, but it seemed the easiest way to get y'all out here without making too much of a mess," All over the crowded courtyard, eyes snapped up to the roof I'd chosen to perch on, as I projected my voice across the assembled Soul Reapers. Eyes widened and expressions hardened as they recognized me, and… Is that fear I see? Hehehehehehehe. "Hello Soul Society! I am Zoe Walker, and I am awesome!"

"You!" Radiating fury, heat, and the stench of natto, Captain-General Yamamoto emerged from the group, his rather intimidating aura, or perhaps his even more intimidating smell, clearing a path. "Ryoka! What is the meaning of this?" Ryoka? Eh, not important.

"Hello, Captain Pinkbeard, can I call you that? Of course I can, you can't stop me. Aaanyway, I am here," I gestured expansively at the group, "Because most of you suck. You especially, Pinkbeard, but a lotta the other dudes too. I have, of course, gathered all the people in the Seireitei here through cunning manipulations for a grand purpose."

"All the people? What about the Eleventh, Twelfth, Seventh, Sixth, Fifth, Third, and Second Divisions?" Unohana asked mildly, "You didn't even gather half of the divisions here."

"What about them?" I asked, honestly curious. "Except maybe Seventh Division, but Captain Komamura would've tried to chop my head off by now, and I'd rather have a civil discussion before we get down to the whole trying to kill each other business."

"And what is that business?" Yamamoto seemed to be getting close to incoherent fury by now, but fortunately Captain Unohana had more self-control.

"Right, that part. I'm just here to inform all y'all of a rather iiinteresting opportunity. And not just the one that involves chopping me into tiny little bits," I smiled like a street vendor, "You probably haven't heard of me because you don't pay attention to current events and also I'm foreign, but I'm Zoe Walker. I run a mercenary company called Walker Arms and Enterprises, and I think that many of YOU, that's right, YOU would be perfect for my organization!" And there was beautiful, stunned silence.

"Salaries will of course start at two shares of the net profits for experienced combat personnel, three shares for leadership experience, six for specialists like medics and casters, and eight for leadership and specialist training. Bu-u-ut, you don't want to jump to the clearly superior organization just for the cash," I barked out into the silence, "You wanna hear about the benefits, and boy do we have benefits! Full coverage dental and medical is a must in any combat organization, of course, so all I'll say is that if it's harming, we'll help! But there's more! Life insurance! Never worry about your family starving if you bite it! Air, artillery, armor, and mage support! When the going gets tough, the infantry's usually expected to tough it out! But not with us. We believe that even the lowest grunt's life is valuable, and deploy our heavy assets to keep him as safe as we can make him.

"And as an extension of that, our armorers will make certain you have the best equipment available. You see this?" I slammed a fist into my breastplate with a clank, "This baby is made of titanium battleplate. Magically enhanced, tough enough that Captain Kuchiki's sword broke on it, certain to save your life from all but the most powerful attacks. Weapons, communications, support gear, we make most of our own, and buy the rest from tried and tested vendors. And if you're not feeling satisfied in your old role, that's fine too!

"Our masters-at-arms and officers will be happy to help you retrain to whatever role you want to serve in our organization! You Fourth Division guys want a combat posting? No problem; Soul Reapers can get pretty badass whoever they might be. Other divisions want a less violent assignment? No problem! We value our support personnel and scouts just as highly as our front line soldiers. After all, they've saved all our lives a dozen times over! So we give them everything they need to do their jobs!

"That's right, we have dedicated, professional nurses, plus assignments of grunts to help with the cleaning and heavy lifting! Our sapient resources division and officers are quick to crack down on any and all hazing, to keep everything running smoothly and inter-division relations cordial at a minimum. At Walker Arms, all our employees are valuable members, and we give them the support they need to better themselves and our organization!"

And the silence continued. And stretched out… And then a tall, silver-haired woman wearing the Fourth Division's lieutenant insignia stepped forward, looking especially stunned. "Y-your battletag wouldn't happen to be GodEmpressofAwesome#42424, would it?" What does that have to do with… No way.

"LT4TH? I shoulda freaking guessed. Small world, huh?" I remarked, "How would you feel about joining the winning team in the real world too?" She looked between me and Captain Unohana, clearly torn, but her expression soon firmed up.

"Are you saying my choices are between being constantly treated like a second class citizen or janitor after twenty years of medical training and eighty years of service, most as an officer?" She asked pointedly, "Or joining up with someone I know will respect and protect their supports?" The tall Soul Reaper carefully untied her lieutenant's insignia, folded it up, and handed it to her Captain, whose expression was rapidly approaching the open-mouthed shock I was seeing all over the courtyard. "I'm sorry, Captain Unohana, but I am resigning my commission." Unohana didn't respond, so she tucked the badge into the older woman's sash, and strode over to me, head held high, to bow shallowly before me. "Hello, Ms. Walker. I am Kotetsu Isane, former lieutenant of Fourth Division. I would like to apply for a position in your organization as a combat medic."

"Accepted!" I cackled, "Welcome to the crew! So who else wants to get out of a toxic work environment?" The entire freaking Fourth Division, their Captain exempted, promptly went for their insignia. So did a few dudes from other divisions. Well. That's a bit more than I was expecting. But I can work with this. Gods, can I ever. Oh, hey, the Captain-General is twitching. Is he gonna do something? Is he gonna have a heart attack with all his doctors working for me now? Let's find out!

"You- You dare? You are all traitors!" He shouted, fire aura of anger and fire spreading out. The Soul Reapers who'd jumped ship flinched back, but stood (relatively) firm. The poor bastards must've been treated even worse than I thought. "There is only one sentence for desertion and treachery!"

"Well, far be it for me to abandon my new employees in their time of need," I stated, hopping off the roof to land before the old guy with a faint crunch. "I guess I'll just have to stop you then."

"You know we're going to die, right?" Isane asked me pessimistically, "The most any of us are hoping for is to make a statement, and pray things get better for the next round of Fourth Division members. We're with you; anything's better than spending more time with ninety percent of the Court Guard Companies. But the Captain-General is the strongest Soul Reaper to ever live. He has over a thousand years of experience. You're just a shaman, and, well, if we were really good in a fight we wouldn't have been with the Fourth Division."

"Have a little faith, LT," I drawled, drawing my sword with my left hand. The armor protecting the tip of my index finger withdrew, allowing me to run it down the blade's edge leaving a thin line of blood, before I let my new employee seal the cut. "Okay, yes. Under nearly any circumstance, Pinkbeard there would beat me. Easily. Even if Yoruichi seems convinced I technically have a really good match-up with him thanks to how my powers work."

"Then why aren't you scared?"

"First off, a thousand years? Pfa, what of it? I punched Gilgamesh in the face once," I scoffed, "He kicked my butt afterward, of course, but I still did it. Yeah, it's still a pretty long time, but I've been around for way longer than that. Aged a lot better than this guy too. Second, all his good scrap causes a lot of collateral damage. If he Kentucky-fries all his minions to get at me and y'all, who's going to heal 'em up afterward? I'm sure not hiring my people out to an organization like his. He can't afford to cut loose all the way.

"And most importantly, this is the most powerful leyline confluence in the Seireitei short of the one y'all have got powering that giant magic halberd on the hill over there," I pointed to the landmark, before stabbing my bloody sword into the ground. Glowing, orange light filled the runes I'd spent the past week scratching into this very place, spreading out under the assembled Soul Reapers. "I've had a week of prep time. If I was a shaman, that wouldn't mean much. But I'm not. I am a WIZARD! And I am the bone of my sword. No, wait, that's that wangsty puke's line. How's that incantation go again…?

"In the fog of ignorance I stand! For my soul is fire.

Under the burdens of duty I stand! For my bones are steel.

In the throngs of fools I stand! For my heart ticks louder than their pathetic bleating.

Here I stand, vigil eternal.

For none can take my place.

At the Forge of Legends."

Ten thousand hammers fell.

A blast of dry, ashen wind slammed across the courtyard, as the rune-lights glowed bright. The runes spread, the light rose, and the world twisted like a pretzel.

Ten thousand hammers fell.

And where there once were the traditional Japanese fortifications, tiled roads, and small gardens, soot-clad, metal buildings reached for a sunless sky. Light seemed to radiate from all sides of the horizon at once, barely penetrating the dusty, windswept clouds. Under the dismal sky, countless factories sprouted from the dry earth like trees of ceramic and tungsten and titanium, looming over the long street we now stood on. "Welcome to my world!" I announced, sweeping an armored hand over the industrial hellscape, "My greatest personal technique! The product of millennia of research and testing! The ultimate expression of my magical skill! The Forge of Legends!"

"What is this place?" Isane asked faintly.

"I'm glad you asked! It's a pocket dimension! A space outside normal space, shaped into an external reflection of my personality and soul," I elaborated, "Took a heck of a lot of work to make it, and it takes at least thirty six hours of work to set up a way to send people here, but when you send a letter to all your local enemies to 'Get over here and fite me', it makes one heck of a trap, eh? Consider this… My Bankai. Or as close to it as I can get."

The enemy Soul Reapers circled the wagons warily when I said that, looking confused when they failed to die in messy, gruesome ways. But I was content to let them stew, until somebody asked the inevitable question.

"Is… it going to attack us?" Captain Hitsugaya murmured, confused, "What does it even do, aside from send us here?"

"Nothing aggressive!" I admitted shamelessly, "The Forge of Legends is almost completely incapable of direct offensive action!" Guards went down, jaws fell open. Gods, I slagging love this. "I suppose if I really wanted to I could toss a load or two of ingots at y'all, but you'd just get out of the way. Heh, no, it doesn't work like that. If it was that easy to use, it wouldn't be a good reflection of me.

"The Forge of Legends isn't a weapon. It's an industrial complex," Ten thousand hammers fell in glorious unison. "It mass-produces things. It draws pure energy from the aether, converts it to matter, and uses that matter to repair itself and create whatever I desire. If I know how to create something, the Forge can make thousands of copies every hour. Which of course means it's almost useless in duels. I've already got the best arms and armor I can make or buy. What use are a thousand swords when you only have two hands to swing them with?"

"But you don't have just two hands now," Isane figured it out. Smart lady. "You have all of us!" Ten thousand hammers fell.

With a hissing, hydraulic chorus, a gleaming suit of armor rose from the ground on countless mechanical arms and was fitted to each of my employees. Sheathes engraved with arcane runes and pictograms, fitted for each Zanpakuto, were belted around their waists. Rings and amulets, brimming with magic, were placed on hands and around necks.

"A bunch of Fourth Division medics and a smattering of dissatisfied defectors doesn't make much of an army against foes who can call themselves the Gods of Death," I admitted, "So what happens when you give the underdogs each a set of timeshifting titanium half-plate, rings of magic resistance, amulets of fleetness, and suppressive sheathes of vorpal sharpening? Oh, yeah, you should use the sheath to club anybody you don't want to kill. They'll be tasting colors for hours. And make sure to re-sheath your sword every ten swings if you're going for blood." Behind me, a shocked Fourth Division guy drew his Zanpakuto, leaving a dark streak trailing behind the blade as it slid free with a faint 'snicker-snack'. Oh. Yeah.

* * *

Three years into the future, a Quincy named Yhwach froze as his thus-far flawless visions of the future suddenly became obscured with billions of phantom Soul Reapers clad in heavy armor. Not quite solid, but definitely opaque, they blocked his sight quite thoroughly.

In a blur of super-fast motion, Kurosaki Ichigo appeared behind him, and swung down with a light, thin-bladed naginata. The razor-edged blade sliced through the Quincy's head and chest like a hot knife through butter, and the ravenous, black energy wrapped around the weapon ripped the sundered flesh apart. The orange-haired Soul Reaper stared down at the dismembered corpse in astonishment, but quickly collected himself.

"Why the hell didn't he dodge?" Ichigo wondered, even as he raised a hand over his head and pulled an ominous, horned, hollow-like mask down over his face. From between the forward-jutting horns, a blood-red sphere of energy built, and he unleashed it to burn the body down to ash in a stream of power. "He dodged everything else like he saw it coming miles away. Sure seemed confident I couldn't touch him, but I didn't even need to use my mask. How did this guy ever beat the Captain-General?"

Still, mildly disappointed confusion didn't stop Ichigo from sweeping the ashes into a pile and pouring a generous helping of salt onto them, then shooting the mix with thirteen silver bullets, then sweeping the remains into a hollow tungsten sphere, which he welded shut with a muttered kido spell. "This'll have to do until I get a chance to drop it into the Marianas Trench. This guy becomes a reoccuring villain over my dead body. Time to go tell everyone the good news, I suppose. I can hardly believe it; his minions were way tougher than this. Seriously, what the hell? Since when has my basic Bankai beaten _anybody_?"

* * *

In the heart of the Forge of Legends, the two groups faced each other with trepidation, shining titanium and flowing black making the sides relatively easy to tell apart. Neither group, with a few notable exceptions, really wanted to fight each other. The former Fourth Division was frustrated enough with being treated like dog poop scraped off a boot to be willing to try it anyway if they had to, but they still weren't thrilled about the thought of fighting their former comrades. Which is, of course, why I gave them a non-lethal option. And eventually, one of them decided to try it out, and charged forward screaming.

That didn't break the dam, though, not until he suddenly vanished and reappeared most of the way through swinging his sheathed sword into a Ninth Division seated officer's head. The Ninth Division guy went down like a bag of rocks, convulsing uncontrollably, and then everybody decided to start swording each other. Oh, violence, what can't you solve?

…Maybe this. "I really hope you have a plan!" Isane informed me, as she covered my back and I punched away at some poor loyalist sap. "I can feel the Captain-General coming for us, and this stuff you gave me has some really, really nice kido on it, but I don't think it's going to be enough to let me beat him even if he can't use his Shikai or Bankai so close to allies."

"Of course I have a plan!" I reached out, and the Forge deposited a gigantic gatling gun into each my hands, ammo feeds connecting the heavy guns to the ground. I clubbed some guy with them, pointed them in the Captain-General's direction, and spun the barrels up. "I'm going to shoot him until it works!" Ignoring her protests about this not being a plan at all, I removed all friendlies from the line of fire with a quick twist of probability manipulation, helped along by the fancy armor's unstable timeline, and pulled the triggers together. Clamps erupted from the ground to stabilize the guns as the bullets soared. Lesser Soul Reapers were scythed down in droves by the rubber bullets, but Yamamoto didn't react at all to the impacts or his allies going down.

So once all the weak people were out of the way, I mentally ordered the Forge of Legends to switch over to the good dakka, and dialed the muzzle velocity up to maximum. The gauss coils hummed, filling the air with the smell of ozone and the percussive blasts of two hundred hypersonic .70 caliber rounds per second.

Per. Gun.

Normally, this would run you out of bullets an instant. Normally, the Forge of Legends isn't feeding you ammunition. Diamond jacketed armor-piercing bullets, burning 'Tears of Amaterasu' thermite rounds, and high explosive antitank munitions soared downrange, and caught the old man by surprise. So. Much. Blood. Yeeeessssssss.

Sadly, fountains of blood don't mean nearly as much around here as they usually do. Soul Reapers must carry at least ten times as many liters as any corporeal human or similar size, I swear. Covered in bloody scratches, bruises, and a few leaking holes, the Captain-General appeared behind me, sword raised in one hand. Isane met his attack as best she could, but even though she had leverage and magic on her side, she barely managed to deflect the attack. So I maced the old man.

Yep, pulled out a big can of bear repellent spray and let him have it right in the face, point blank. He tried to parry the stream with his sword, but it wasn't a solid projectile, so his reflexes didn't really help. Now, don't get me wrong, the dude's pain tolerance was pretty crazy. Had to be if he was able to walk through all that dakka. But there's some things you're never really prepared for. Bear pepper spray from a foot away is one of them. Did he drop his sword and grab at his eyes? Oh yes he did! Barely made a sound as he did, though.

He didn't make much noise either when I converted every joule of mana I had left into electricity and hit him with enough lightning to put a hole in a nuclear reactor's shielding. You don't want to know how I figured out it can do that. Probably put more into that spell than I should have, but I was not taking chances with that guy. A metallic taste filled my mouth, and a burning itch seated in my bones, as we both fell to our knees, wisps of smoke rising from his body.

My power and concentration lapsed, the Forge of Legends faded around us, depositing us back in the courtyard. The arms and armor I'd created for my new employees stuck around, because it'd be a pretty slagging bad ultimate move if they didn't. Yamamoto, clearly regretting the choices that led to this moment but dangerously functional despite his wounds, started shakily rising to his feet again.

It occurred to me, way too late to matter, that it's possible I may have underestimated the old man a bit. I knew Soul Reapers could get crazy powerful, but the sheer, stupid speed and durability kept catching me by surprise. And no get out of jail free card this time. Except that one. Huh.

Wait, oh slag! I opened my mouth, but the exhaustion pulling at me slowed me down more than enough. Before I could so much as make a sound, a sword erupted from the Captain-General's chest. It'd missed his heart, but not by much.

And behind the old man, smiling as his victim slowly slid off his katana, stood dead Captain Aizen. "I greatly dislike spontaneity," The treacherous Soul Reaper remarked, staring at the bleeding, helpless body of his superior officer. "Sometimes, though, you have to take advantages as they come. I must offer you thanks, shaman. I'd never have been able to catch him by surprise if you hadn't done such a wonderful job of holding his attention. And I can assure you that no one else here has any hope of defeating me. Congratulations, you just removed the only thing keeping me from operating openly. I am honestly curious; how does that make you feel?"

"How do you think?" I snarled at him. Slag it, slag it, slag it! Urahara even warned me about this guy, and how I had to be careful not to weaken the Court Guard Companies too much, so they wouldn't be vulnerable to him. I'm pretty sure Urahara never expected me to do anywhere near as well as I have, and should have given a stronger warning, but I still should have listened! But nooo, I just had to go full aggro like a crazy, belligerent fool and hand him a victory on a silver platter. "Like a void-sucking idiot!"


End file.
